THE    LIFE  AND   LETTERS 


OF 


MARIA  EDGEWORTH 


EDITED  BY 

AUGUSTUS  J.  C.  HARE 

AUTHOR    OF    "  MEMORIALS    OF    A    QUIET    LIFE," 
"  THE  STORY  OF  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES  " 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES 
VOLUME    L 


BOSTON    AND    NEW   YORK 
HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 

Che  liilicreiuc  press,  CambnD0e 
1895 


FK 


Copyright,  1894, 
BY  HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  CO. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.  S.  A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  and  Company. 


PEEFACE 

IN  her  later  years  Miss  Edgeworth  was  often  asked  to 
write  a  biographical  preface  to  her  novels.  She  refused. 
"As  a  woman,"  she  said,  "my  life,  wholly  domestic, 
can  offer  nothing  of  interest  to  the  public."  Incidents 
indeed,  in  that  quiet  happy  home  existence,  there  were 
none  to  narrate,  nothing  but  the  ordinary  joys  and  sor- 
rows which  attend  every  human  life.  Yet  the  letters 
of  one  so  clear  -  sighted  and  sagacious  —  one  whom 
Macaulay  considered  to  be  the  second  woman  of  her  age 
—  are  valuable,  not  only  as  a  record  of  her  times,  and 
of  many  who  were  prominent  figures  in  them,  but  from 
the  picture  they  naturally  give  of  a  simple,  honest,  gen- 
erous, high-minded  character,  filled  from  youth  to  age 
with  love  and  goodwill  to  her  fellow-creatures,  and  a 
desire  for  their  highest  good. 

An  admirable  collection  of  Miss  Edgeworth's  letters 
was  printed  after  her  death  by  her  stepmother  and  life- 
long friend,  but  only  for  private  circulation.  As  all 
her  generation  has  long  since  passed  away,  her  family 
now  permit  that  these  letters  should  be  read  beyond  the 
limits  of  their  own  circle.  An  editor  has  had  little 
more  to  do  than  to  make  a  selection,  and  to  write  such 
a  thread  of  biography  as  might  unite  the  links  of  the 
chain. 

AUGUSTUS  J.  C.  HARE. 


CONTENTS 


VOLUME  I. 

1767-1787. 

Childhood  of  Maria  Edgeworth  —  Death  of  her  mother,  and  mar- 
riage of  her  father  to  Miss  Honora  Sneyd  —  Death  of  Mrs.  Honors 
Edgeworth,  and  marriage  of  Mr.  Edgeworth  to  Miss  Elizabeth  Sneyd 
—  Life  at  Edgeworthstown pp.  5-14 

1787-1793. 

Letters  from  Maria  Edgeworth,  from  Edgeworthstown,  Clifton,  and 
London,  to  Miss  Charlotte  Sneyd,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ruxton,  and  Miss 
Sophy  Euxton. 

Journey  to  Clifton  —  Dr.  Darwin,  Mrs.  Yearsly,  and  FTann^Ti 
More — Visit  to  Mrs.  Charles  Hoare —  Dr.  Beddoes  —  Return  to 
Ireland 14-33 

1793-1795. 

Letters  from  Edgeworthstown  to  Miss  Sophy  Ruxton,  Mrs.  Ruxton, 
Mrs.  Elizabeth  Edgeworth. 

Literary  occupations  of  Maria  Edgeworth :  "  Letters  for  Literary 
Ladies,"  "  Practical  Education  " —  Disturbances  in  Ireland  :  Lord 
Granard,  The  White  Tooths,  General  Crosby's  Adventure  .  33-42 

1795-1798. 

Letters  from  Edgeworthstown  to  Mrs.  Ruxton,  Miss  Sophy  Ruxton, 
Miss  Beaufort. 

Publication  of  "  Letters  for  Literary  Ladies  "  and  "  The  Parent's 
Assistant "  — Mr.  Edge-worth's  election  to  the  Irish  Parliament  — 


vi  CONTENTS 

Literary  work  and  study  :  "  Moral  Tales,"  "  Irish  Bulls  "  —  Ma- 
dame Roland's  Memoirs  —  Death  of  Mrs.  Edgeworth,  and  marriage 
of  Mr.  Edgeworth  to  Miss  Beaufort 43-55 

1798-1799. 

Letters  from  Edgeworthstown,  Longford,  and  Dublin  to  Miss  Sophy 
Kuxtcn.  Mrs.  Ruxton,  Miss  Charlotte  Sneyd. 

The  Irish  Rebellion :  Lord  Cornwallis,  Lady  Anne  Fox  —  Flight 
from  Edgeworthstown  to  Longford  —  Return  to  Edgeworthstown  — 
Publication  of  "  Practical  Education  "  —  Theatricals :  "  Whim  for 
Whim"— At  Dublin 55-68 

1799-1802. 

Letters  from  Clifton,  Edgeworthstown,  and  Loughborough  to  Mrs. 
Ruxton,  Miss  Ruxton. 

At  Clifton :  Sir  Humphry  Davy,  Dr.  Beddoes,  Mrs.  Barbauld  — 
Death  of  Dr.  Darwin  —  Literary  work  at  Edgeworthstown :  "  Castle 
Rackrent,"  "Belinda,"  " Early  Lessons,"  "Moral  Tales,"  "  Essay 
on  Irish  Bulls ' '  —  Visits  of  Mr.  Chenevix  and  Professor  Pictet  — 
Journey  to  London 68-84 

1802-1803. 

Letters  from  London,  Brussels,  Chantilly,  Paris,  Calais,  Edinburgh, 
to  Miss  Sneyd,  Miss  Sophy  Ruxton,  Miss  Mary  Sneyd,  Mrs.  Rux- 
ton, C.  S.  Edgeworth. 

A  visit  to  Miss  Watts  at  Leicester  —  Journey  to  Paris :  Calais, 
Dunkirk,  Bruges,  Ghent  —  Madame  Talma  in  "  Andromaque  "  at 
Brussels  —  Palace  of  Chantilly  —  Paris  :  Madame  Delessert,  Ma- 
dame Gautier,  Madame  de  Pastoret,  M.  Dumont,  Abbe*  Morellet,  M. 
Snard,  Marquis  of  Lansdowne,  M.  Degerando,  M.  Camille  Jordan, 
Madame  Campan,  Madame  Re'camier,  Baron  de  Prony,  Rogers,  M. 
Pictet,  Kosciusko  —  Monsieur  Edelcrantz  proposes  to  Maria  Edge- 
worth  ;  her  feelings  towards  him  —  Buonaparte  —  Madame  d'Oudi- 
tot  and  Rousseau — Rumors  of  war — The  Edgeworths  return  to 
England  —  Account  of  a  visit  to  Madame  de  Genlis  .  .  .  84-142 

1803-1809. 

Letters  from  Edinburgh,  Glasgow,  Black  Castle,  Edgeworthstown, 
Rosstrevor,  Allenstown,  Pakenham  Hall,  to  Mrs.  Ruxton,  Miss 


CONTENTS  Vii 

Honora  Edgeworth,  Miss  Charlotte  Sneyd,  Miss  Ruxton,  Henry 
Edgeworth,  C.  Sneyd  Edgeworth,  Miss  Margaret  Ruxton,  Mrs. 
Edgeworth. 

Visit  to  Lindley  Murray  at  Newcastle  —  Dugald  Stewart  at 
Edinburgh  —  Return  to  Edgeworthstown  —  Literary  work :  "  Pop- 
ular Tales,"  "Leonora,"  "Griselda"  —  Marriage  of  Miss  Paken- 
ham  to  Sir  Arthur  Wellesley  (Duke  of  Wellington)  —  Death  of  Dr. 
Beddoes 142-173 

1809-1813. 

Letters  from  Edgeworthstown,  Black  Castle,  Bangor  Ferry,  Liver- 
pool, Derby,  Cambridge,  London,  to  Miss  Ruxton,  Miss  Honora 
Edgeworth,  Mrs.  Ruxton,  C.  Sueyd  Edgeworth,  Miss  Sneyd,  Miss 
Margaret  Ruxton,  Mrs.  Edgeworth. 

Publication  of  "  Tales  of  Fashionable  Life  "  :  Madame  de  Stae'l, 
Lord  Dudley,  Lord  Jeffrey,  upon  —  Life  at  Edgeworthstown :  Mr. 
Chenevix,  Miss  Lydia  White,  Sir  Henry  Holland,  Mrs.  Inchbald, 
Mrs.  Barbauld,  Hannah  More,  Lady  Wellington  —  Marriage  of  Sir 
Humphry  Davy  —  Literary  pursuits  :  Byron's  "  English  Bards," 
Scott's  "  Lady  of  the  Lake  "  and  "  Rokeby,"  Campbell ;  "  Patron- 
age," "Tales  of  Fashionable  Life"  (second  series),  "The  Absen- 
tee" —  Balloon  ascent  of  Sadler  —  Journey  to  London:  Roscoe, 
Dr.  Ferrier,  Sir  Henry  Holland  —  Visit  to  Cambridge  and  to  Dr. 
Clarke  at  Trumpington 173-218 

1813-1817. 

Letters  from  London,  Malvern  Links,  Ross,  Edgeworthstown,  Dub- 
lin, Black  Castle,  to  Miss  Ruxton,  Mrs.  Ruxton,  Miss  Sneyd,  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  C.  S.  Edgeworth. 

Visit  to  London :  Madame  de  Stae'l,  Davy,  Byron,  Miss  Berry's, 
Lord  Lansdowne,  Lady  Wellington,  Mrs.  Siddons,  The  Prince 
Regent,  Lady  Elizabeth  Monk,  Dukes  of  Kent  and  Sussex,  Sir 
James  Mackintosh,  Dumont,  Sir  Samuel  Romilly,  Dr.  Parr,  Malthus, 
Madame  d' Arblay,  Rogers  —  Return  to  and  life  at  Edgeworthstown : 
"Early  Lessons,"  "Popular  Plays,"  "Harrington,"  "Ormond"  — 
"Waverley  "  — Illness  and  death  of  Mr.  Edgeworth  .  .  218-258 

1817-1820. 

Letters  from  Edgeworthstown,  Mount  Kennedy,  Bowood,  Epping, 
Hampstead,  Byrkely  Lodge,  Tetsworth,  London,  Dublin,  Heath- 


viii  CONTENTS 

field,  Canterbury,  to  Mrs.  Ruxton,  Mrs.  Stark,  Mrs.  Edgeworth, 

Miss  Ruxton,  Miss  Waller,  Miss  Lucy  Edgeworth,  Miss  Honora 

Edgeworth. 

Literary  pursuits  at  Edgeworthstown :  Miss  Austen  —  Visits  to 
Bowood :  Lord  Lansdowne,  Dumont,  Lord  Grenville,  Mr.  Hare, 
Dugald  Stewart  —  Death  of  Sir  Samuel  Romilly  —  Joanna  Baillio, 
Watt,  Campbell  —  London  :  Mill,  Wilberf orce,  Duke  and  Duchess 
of  Wellington,  Lord  Palmerston  —  Visit  to  Ireland  —  Journey 
to  Paris 258-291 

1820. 

Letters  from  Paris,  La  Celle,  Passy,  Geneva,  Pregny,  Berne,  to  Mrs. 
Edgeworth,  Misses  Mary  and  Charlotte  Sneyd,  Mrs.  Kuxton,  Miss 
Buxton,  Miss  Lucy  Edgeworth,  Miss  Honora  Edgeworth. 
Paris:    Duchesse   de  Broglie,  Madame  Re'camier,  Camille  Jor- 
dan, Cuvier  —  Prony's  anecdotes  of  Buonaparte  —  Visit  to  M.  de 
Vinde"'s    country  house  — A  visit    to    the    Duke    of  Orleans  at 
Neuilly  —  Duchesse    d'Angoule'ine,     Casimir    Perrier,     Duchesse 
d'Uzes,     Humboldt,    Malthus  —  Journey    through    Switzerland : 
Dumont,  M.  de  Stael 292-339 


LIFE  AND  LETTEES 

OF 

MARIA   EDGEWORTH 


IN  the  flats  of  the  featureless  county  of  Longford 
stands  the  large  and  handsome  but  unpretentious  house 
of  Edgeworthstown.  The  scenery  here  has  few  natural 
attractions,  but  the  loving  care  of  several  generations 
has  gradually  beautified  the  surroundings  of  the  house, 
and  few  homes  have  been  more  valued  or  more  the  cen- 
tre round  which  a  large  family  circle  has  gathered  in 
•unusual  sympathy  and  love.  In  his  "Memoirs,"  Mr. 
Edgeworth  tells  us  how  his  family,  which  had  given  a 
name  to  Edgeworth,  now  Edgeware,  near  London,  came 
to  settle  in  Ireland  more  than  three  hundred  years  ago. 
Roger  Edgeworth,  a  monk,  having  taken  advantage  of 
the  religious  changes  under  Henry  VIII.,  had  married 
and  left  two  sons,  who,  about  1583,  established  them- 
selves in  Ireland.  Of  these,  Edward,  the  elder,  became 
Bishop  of  Down  and  Connor,  and  died  without  children; 
but  the  younger,  Francis,  became  the  founder  of  the 
family  of  Edgeworthstown.  Always  intensely  Protes- 
tant, often  intensely  extravagant,  each  generation  of  the 
Edgeworth  family  afterwards  had  its  own  picturesque 
story,  till  Richard  Edgeworth  repaired  the  broken  for- 
tunes of  his  house,  partly  by  success  as  a  lawyer,  partly 
by  his  marriage,  in  1732,  with  Jane  Lovell,  daughter 
of  a  Welsh  judge. 


6  MAEIA  EDGEWOKTH 

Their  eldest  son,  Richard  Lovell  Edgeworth,  was 
born  in  1744,  and  educated  in  his  boyhood  at  Drogheda 
School  and  Dublin  University.  Strong,  handsome, 
clever,  ingenious,  and  devoted  to  sports  of  every  kind, 
he  was  a  general  favorite.  But  his  high  spirits  often 
led  him  into  scrapes;  the  most  serious  of  these  occurred 
during  the  festivities  attendant  on  his  eldest  sister's  mar- 
riage with  Mr.  Fox  of  Fox  Hall,  at  which  he  played  at 
being  married  to  a  young  lady  who  was  present,  by  one 
of  the  guests  dressed  up  in  a  white  cloak,  with  a  door-key 
for  a  ring.  This  foolish  escapade  would  not  deserve  the 
faintest  notice,  if  it  had  not  been  seriously  treated  as  an 
actual  marriage  by  a  writer  in  the  "  Quarterly  Eeview. " 

In  1761  Richard  Edgeworth  was  removed  from  Dub- 
lin to  Corpus  Christi  College  at  Oxford.  There  he 
arrived,  regretting  the  gayeties  of  Dublin,  and  anxious 
to  make  the  most  of  any  little  excitements  which  his 
new  life  could  offer.  Amongst  the  introductions  he 
brought  with  him  was  one  to  Mr.  Paul  Elers,  who, 
himself  of  German  extraction,  had  made  a  romantic 
marriage  with  Miss  Hungerford,  the  heiress  of  Black 
Bourton  in  Oxfordshire.  Mr.  Elers  honorably  warned 
Mr.  Edgeworth,  who  was  an  old  friend  of  his,  that  he 
had  four  daughters  who  were  very  pretty,  and  that  his 
friend  had  better  be  careful,  as  their  small  fortunes 
would  scarcely  fit  one  of  them  to  be  the  wife  of  his  son. 
But  the  elder  Mr.  Edgeworth  took  no  notice  —  Richard 
was  constantly  at  Black  Bourton;  and  in  1763,  being 
then  only  nineteen,  he  fled  with  Miss  Anna  Maria  Elers 
to  Gretna  Green,  where  they  were  married.  Great  as 
was  Mr.  Edgeworth' s  displeasure,  he  wisely  afterwards 
had  the  young  couple  remarried  by  license. 


MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  7 

The  union  turned  out  unhappily.  "  I  soon  felt  the 
inconveniences  of  an  early  and  hasty  marriage,"  wrote 
the  bridegroom;  "but,  though  I  heartily  repented  my 
folly,  I  determined  to  bear  with  firmness  and  temper 
the  evil  which  I  had  brought  on  myself."  His  eldest 
child,  Richard,  was  born  before  he  was  twenty;  his 
second,  Maria,  when  he  was  twenty-four.  Though  he 
became  master  of  Edgeworthstown  by  the  death  of  his 
father  in  1769,  he  lived  for  some  years  chiefly  at  Hare 
Hatch,  near  Maidenhead,  where  he  already  began  to 
distract  his  attention  from  an  ungenial  home,  by  the 
endless  plans  for  progress  in  agriculture  and  industry, 
and  the  disinterested  schemes  for  the  good  of  Ireland, 
which  always  continued  to  be  the  chief  occupation  of 
his  life.  It  was  his  inventive  genius  which  led  to  his 
paying  a  long  visit  to  Lichfield  to  see  Dr.  Darwin. 
There  he  lingered  long  in  pleasant  intimacy  with  the 
doctor  and  his  wife,  with  Mr.  Wedgwood,  Miss  Anna 
Seward,  —  "  the  Swan  of  Lichfield, "  —  and,  still  more, 
with  the  eccentric  Thomas  Day,  author  of  "Sandford 
and  Merton,"  who  became  his  most  intimate  friend,  and 
who  wished  to  marry  his  favorite  sister  Margaret, 
though  she  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  accept  him, 
and  eventually  became  the  wife  of  Mr.  Ruxton  of  Black 
Castle.  With  Mrs.  Seward  and  her  daughters  lived  at 
that  time  —  partly  for  educational  purposes  —  Honora 
Sneyd,  a  beautiful  and  gifted  girl,  who  had  rejected  the 
addresses  of  the  afterwards  famous  Major  Andre*,  and 
who  now  also  refused  those  of  Mr.  Day.  "In  her, 
Honora  Sneyd, "  wrote  Mr.  Edgeworth,  "  I  saw  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life  a  woman  that  equaled  the  picture 
of  perfection  existing  in  my  imagination.  And  then 


8  MAKIA  EDGEWOETH  [1767 

my  not  being  happy  at  home  exposed  me  to  the  danger 
of  being  too  happy  elsewhere."  When  he  began  to  feel 
as  if  the  sunshine  of  his  life  emanated  from  his  friend- 
ship with  Miss  Sneyd,  he  was  certain  flight  was  the 
only  safety.  So  leaving  Mrs.  Edgeworth  and  her  little 
girls  with  her  mother,  he  made  his  escape  to  France, 
taking  with  him  only  his  boy,  whom  he  determined  to 
educate  according  to  the  system  of  Rousseau.  Then, 
for  two  years,  he  remained  at  Lyons,  employing  his 
inventive  and  mechanical  powers  in  building  bridges. 

Meantime,  the  early  childhood  of  Maria  Edgeworth, 
who  was  born  1st  January,  1767,  in  the  house  of  her 
grandfather,  Mr.  Elers,  at  Black  Bourton,  was  spent 
almost  entirely  with  relations  in  Oxfordshire,  or  with 
her  maternal  great-aunts,  the  Misses  Blake,  in  Great 
Russell  Street  in  London.  It  was  in  their  house  that 
her  neglected  and  unloved  mother  —  always  a  kind  and 
excellent,  though  a  very  sad  woman  —  died  after  her 
confinement  of  a  third  daughter  (Anna)  in  1773.  On 
hearing  of  what  he  considered  to  be  his  release,  Mr. 
Edgeworth  hurried  back  at  once  to  England,  and,  before 
four  months  were  over,  he  was  married  to  Miss  Ho- 
nora  Sneyd,  whose  assent  to  so  hasty  a  marriage  would 
scarcely  prepare  those  who  were  unacquainted  with  her 
for  the  noble,  simple,  and  faithful  way  in  which  she 
ever  fulfilled  the  duties  of  a  wife  and  stepmother.  The 
son  of  the  first  marriage,  Richard  Edgeworth,  went,  by 
his  own  choice,  to  sea;  but  the  three  little  girls,  Maria, 
Emmeline,  and  Anna,  returned  with  their  father  and 
stepmother  to  Edgeworthstown,  where  they  had  a  child- 
hood of  unclouded  happiness. 

In  1775  Maria  Edgeworth,   being  then  eight  years 


1780]          MRS.   HONORA  EDGEWORTH  TO  MARIA  9 

old,  was  sent  to  a  school  at  Derby,  kept  by  Mrs. 
Lataffiere,  to  whom  she  always  felt  much  indebted, 
though  her  stepmother,  then  in  very  failing  health,  con- 
tinued to  take  part  in  her  education  by  letter. 

MRS.    HONORA    EDGEWORTH    TO    MARIA. 

BEIGHTERTON,  NEAR  SHIFFKALL, 
October  10,  1779. 

I  have  received  your  letter,  and  I  thank  you  for  it, 
though  I  assure  you  I  did  not  expect  it.  I  am  particu- 
larly desirous  you  should  be  convinced  of  this,  as  I  told 
you  I  would  write  first.  It  is  in  vain  to  attempt  to 
please  a  person  who  will  not  tell  us  what  they  do  and 
what  they  do  not  desire;  but  as  I  tell  you  very  fully 
what  I  think  may  be  expected  from  a  girl  of  your  age, 
abilities,  and  education,  I  assure  you,  my  dear  Maria, 
you  may  entirely  depend  upon  me,  that  as  long  as  I 
have  the  use  of  my  understanding,  I  shall  not  be  dis- 
pleased with  you  for  omitting  anything  which  I  had 
before  told  you  I  did  not  expect.  Perhaps  you  may 
not  quite  understand  what  I  mean,  for  I  have  not 
expressed  myself  clearly.  If  you  do  not,  I  will  explain 
myself  to  you  when  we  meet;  for  it  is  very  agreeable 
to  me  to  think  of  conversing  with  you  as  my  equal  in 
every  respect  but  age,  and  of  my  making  that  inequality 
of  use  to  you  by  giving  you  the  advantage  of  the  expe- 
rience I  have  had,  and  the  observations  I  have  been 
able  to  make,  as  these  are  parts  of  knowledge  which 
nothing  but  time  can  bestow. 

In  the  spring  of  1780  Mrs.  Honora  Edgeworth  died 
of  consumption,  leaving  an  only  son,  Lovell,  and  a 


10  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [1780 

daughter,  Honora.  Mr.  Edgeworth  announced  this  — 
which  to  her  was  a  most  real  sorrow  —  to  his  daughter 
Maria  in  a  very  touching  letter,  in  which  he  urges  her 
to  follow  her  lost  stepmother's  example,  especially  in 
endeavoring  to  be  "amiable,  prudent,  and  of  use;"  but 
within  eight  months  he  married  again.  Mrs.  Honora 
Edgeworth,  when  dying,  had  been  certain  that  he  would 
do  so,  and  had  herself  indicated  her  own  sister  Elizabeth 
as  the  person  whose  character  was  most  likely  to  secure 
a  happy  home  to  him  and  his  children.  So,  with  his 
usual  singularity,  though  he  liked  her  less  than  any  of 
her  other  sisters,  and  though  he  believed  her  utterly 
unsuited  to  himself,  he  followed  the  advice  which  had 
been  given;  and  in  spite  of  law  and  public  opinion, 
Elizabeth  Sneyd  became  the  third  Mrs.  Edgeworth 
within  eight  months  of  her  sister's  death. 

"Nothing,"  wrote  Mr.  Edgeworth,  "is  more  erroneous 
than  the  common  belief  that  a  man  who  has  lived  in 
the  greatest  happiness  with  one  wife  will  be  the  most 
averse  to  take  another.  On  the  contrary,  the  loss  of 
happiness  which  he  feels  when  he  loses  her  necessarily 
urges  him  to  endeavor  to  be  again  placed  in  the  situa- 
tion which  constituted  his  former  felicity. 

"I  felt  that  Honora  had  judged  wisely  and  from  a 
thorough  knowledge  of  my  character,  when  she  advised 
me  to  marry  again  as  soon  as  I  could  meet  with  a  woman 
who  would  make  a  good  mother  to  my  children,  and  an 
agreeable  companion  to  me.  She  had  formed  an  idea 
that  her  sister  Elizabeth  was  better  suited  to  me  than 
any  other  woman,  and  thought  I  was  equally  suited  to 
her.  But,  of  all  Honora' s  sisters,  I  had  seen  the  least 
of  Elizabeth." 


1782]  MARIA   EDGE  WORTH  11 

Mrs.  Elizabeth.  Edgeworth  proved  herself  worthy  of 
her  sister's  confidence.  She  was  soon  adored  by  her 
stepchildren,  and  her  conduct  to  them  was  in  all  respects 
maternal.  Maria  at  this  time  was  removed  from  Bath 
to  the  school  of  Mrs.  Davis,  in  Upper  Wimpole  Street, 
London,  where  she  had  excellent  masters.  Here  her 
talent  as  an  improvisatrice  was  first  manifested  in  the 
tales  she  used  to  tell  to  her  companions  in  their  bed- 
room at  night.  She  also,  by  his  desire,  frequently 
wrote  stories  and  sent  them  for  her  father's  criticism 
and  approval.  During  holidays,  which  she  often  spent 
with  his  old  friend  Mr.  Day  at  Anningsly,  she  benefited 
by  an  admirable  library  and  by  Mr.  Day's  advice  as  to 
her  reading. 

In  1782  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edgeworth  returned  to  Ire- 
land, taking  the  whole  family  with  them.  Maria  was 
now  fifteen,  and  was  old  enough  to  be  interested  in  all 
the  peculiarities  of  the  Irish  as  contrasted  with  the 
English  character,  soon  showing  such  natural  aptitude 
for  dealing  with  those  around  her,  that  her  father 
intrusted  her  with  all  his  accounts,  and  practically 
employed  her  as  his  agent  for  many  years.  Thus  she 
obtained  an  insight  into  the  lives  and  characters  of  her 
humbler  neighbors,  which  was  of  inestimable  value  to 
her  when  afterwards  writing  her  sketches  of  Irish  life. 
She  already  began  to  plan  many  stories,  most  of  which 
were  never  finished.  But  Mr.  Edgeworth  discouraged 
this.  In  the  last  year  of  her  life  Miss  Edgeworth 
wrote:  "I  remember  a  number  of  literary  projects,  if 
I  may  so  call  them,  or  apergus  of  things  which  I  might 
have  written  if  I  had  time  or  capacity  so  to  do.  The 
word  apery u  my  father  used  to  object  to.  '  Let  us 


12  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [1782 

have  none  of  your  apergus,  Maria:  either  follow  a 
thing  out  clearly  to  a  conclusion,  or  do  not  begin  it: 
begin  nothing  without  finishing  it. ' ' 

Building  and  planning  alterations  and  improvements 
of  every  kind  at  Edgeworthstown  were  at  once  begun  by 
Mr.  Edgeworth,  but  always  within  his  income.  He 
also  made  two  rules:  he  employed  no  middlemen,  and 
he  always  left  a  year's  rent  in  his  tenants'  hands. 
"Go  before  Mr.  Edgeworth,  and  you  will  surely  get 
justice,"  became  a  saying  in  the  neighborhood. 

"Some  men  live  with  their  families  without  letting 
them  know  their  affairs,"  wrote  Miss  Edgeworth,  "and, 
however  great  may  be  their  affection  and  esteem  for 
their  wives  and  children,  think  that  they  have  nothing 
to  do  with  business.  This  was  not  my  father's  way  of 
thinking.  On  the  contrary,  not  only  his  wife,  but  his 
children,  knew  all  his  affairs.  Whatever  business  he 
had  to  do  was  done  in  the  midst  of  his  family,  usually 
in  the  common  sitting-room;  so  that  we  were  intimately 
acquainted,  not  only  with  his  general  principles  of  con- 
duct, but  with  the  minute  details  of  their  every-day 
application.  I  further  enjoyed  some  peculiar  advan- 
tages: he  kindly  wished  to  give  me  habits  of  business, 
and  for  this  purpose  allowed  me,  during  many  years,  to 
assist  him  in  copying  his  letters  of  business,  and  in 
receiving  his  rents." 

With  the  younger  children  Mr.  Edgeworth' s  educa- 
tional system  was  of  the  most  cheerful  kind;  they  were 
connected  with  all  that  was  going  on,  made  sharers  in 
all  the  occupations  of  their  elders,  and  not  so  much 
taught  as  shown  how  best  to  teach  themselves.  "I  do 
not  think  one  tear  per  month  is  shed  in  this  house,  nor 


1782]  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  13 

the  voice  of  reproof  heard,  nor  the  hand  of  restraint 
felt,"  wrote  Mr.  Edgeworth  to  Dr.  Darwin.  In  both 
precept  and  practice  he  was  the  first  to  recommend  what 
is  described  by  Bacon  as  the  experimental  mode  of  edu- 
cation. "Surely,"  says  Miss  Edgeworth,  "it  would  be 
doing  good  service  to  bring  into  a  popular  form  all  that 
metaphysicians  have  discovered  which  can  be  applied  to 
practice  in  education.  This  was  early  and  long  my 
father's  object.  The  art  of  teaching  to  invent  —  I  dare 
not  say,  but  of  awakening  and  assisting  the  inventive 
power  by  daily  exercise  and  excitement,  and  by  the  appli- 
cation of  philosophic  principles  to  trivial  occurrences  — 
he  believed  might  be  pursued  with  infinite  advantage  to 
the  rising  generation." 

Maria  Edgeworth  found  very  congenial  society  in  the 
family  of  her  relation,  Lord  Longford,  at  Pakenham, 
which  was  twelve  miles  from  Edgeworthstown,  and  in 
that  of  Lord  Granard,  at  Castle  Forbes,  nine  miles  dis- 
tant. Lady  Granard's  mother,  Lady  Moira,  full  of  wit 
and  wisdom,  and  with  great  nobility  of  character,  would 
pour  out  her  rich  stores  of  reminiscence  for  the  young 
girl  with  ceaseless  kindness.  But  more  than  any  other 
was  her  life  influenced,  helped,  cheered,  and  animated 
by  the  love  of  her  father's  sister  Margaret,  Mrs.  Ruxton, 
the  intimate  friend  and  correspondent  of  forty-two  years, 
whose  home,  Black  Castle,  was  within  a  long  drive  of 
Edgeworthstown.  Mrs.  Ruxton 's  three  children  —  Rich- 
ard, Sophy,  and  Margaret  —  were  Maria  Edgeworth's 
dearest  companions  and  friends. 

The  great  love  which  Miss  Edgeworth  always  felt 
for  children  was  tried  and  developed  out  to  its  fullest 
extent  in  the  ever-increasing  family  circle.  Mrs.  Eliza- 


14  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1787 

beth  Edgeworth  added  nine  more  brothers  and  sisters 
to  the  group  of  six  which  already  existed;  the  eldest  of 
them,  Henry,  born  in  1782,  was  intrusted  to  Maria's 
especial  care. 

MARIA    TO    MISS    CHARLOTTE    SNEYD. 

EDGEWOETHSTOWN,  December  9,  1787. 

I  think,  my  dear  Aunt  Charlotte,  I  did  not  know  till 
Henry  returned  to  us  after  his  six  weeks'  absence,  how 
very  agreeable  even  a  child  of  his  age  can  make  himself, 
but  I  am  sure  that  his  journey  has  been  productive  of 
so  much  pleasure  to  me  from  the  kindness  and  approba- 
tion you  have  shown,  and  has  left  on  my  mind  so  full 
a  conviction  of  your  skill  in  the  art  of  education,  that  I 
should  part  with  Henry  again  to-morrow  with  infinitely 
more  security  and  satisfaction  than  I  did  two  months 
ago.  I  was  really  surprised  to  see  with  what  ease  and 
alacrity  little  Henry  returned  to  all  his  former  habits 
and  occupations,  and  the  very  slight  change  that  ap- 
peared in  his  manner  or  mind;  nothing  seemed  strange 
to  him  in  anything,  or  anybody  about  him.  When  he 
spoke  of  you  to  us  he  seemed  to  think  that  we  were  all 
necessarily  connected  in  all  our  commands  and  wishes, 
that  we  were  all  one  whole  —  one  great  polypus  soul. 
I  hope  my  father  will  tell  you  himself  how  much  he 
liked  your  letter,  "the  overflowings  of  a  full  mind,  not 
the  froth  of  an  empty  one." 

In  1790  the  family  group  was  first  broken  by  the 
death  from  consumption,  at  fifteen,  of  Honora,  the 
beautiful  only  daughter  of  Mrs.  Honora  Edgeworth. 


1790]  TO  MRS.    EUXTON  16 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  February  11,  1790. 

Your  friendship,  my  dear  Aunt  Ruxton,  has,  I  am 
sure,  considerably  alleviated  the  anguish  of  mind  my 
father  has  had  to  feel,  and  your  letter  and  well-deserved 
praise  of  my  dear  mother's  fortitude  and  exertion  were 
a  real  pleasure  to  her.  She  has  indeed  had  a  great  deal 
to  bear,  and  I  think  her  health  has  suffered,  but  I  hope 
not  materially.  In  my  father's  absence,  she  ordered 
everything,  did  everything,  felt  everything  herself. 
Unless,  my  dear  aunt,  you  had  been  present  during  the 
last  week  of  dear  Honora's  sufferings,  I  think  you  could 
not  form  an  idea  of  anything  so  terrible  or  so  touching. 
Such  extreme  fortitude,  such  affection,  such  attention 
to  the  smallest  feelings  of  others,  as  she  showed  on  her 
deathbed ! 

My  father  has  carefully  kept  his  mind  occupied  ever 
since  his  return,  but  we  cannot  help  seeing  his  feelings 
at  intervals.  He  has  not  slept  for  two  or  three  nights, 
and  is,  I  think,  far  from  well  to-day. 

He  said  the  other  day,  speaking  of  Honora,  "My 
dear  daughters,  I  promise  you  one  thing,  I  never  will 
reproach  any  of  you  with  Honora.  I  will  never  re- 
proach you  with  any  of  her  virtues."  There  could  not 
be  a  kinder  or  more  generous  promise,  but  I  could  not 
help  fearing  that  my  father  should  refrain  from  speak- 
ing of  her  too  much,  and  that  it  would  hurt  his  mind. 
He  used  to  say  it  was  a  great  relief  to  him  to  talk  of 
my  mother  Honora. 


16  MARIA  EDGEWOETH  [Ocr. 

In  the  summer  of  1791  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Edgeworth 
went  to  England,  leaving  Maria  in  sole  charge  of  the 
large  family  at  home.  She  used  to  amuse  her  young 
sisters  at  this  time  hy  stories,  which  she  would  write  on 
a  slate  during  the  leisure  moments  which  her  many 
occupations  permitted,  and  which  she  would  read  aloud 
to  them  in  the  evening.  By  their  interest  or  questions 
she  estimated  the  stories,  which  became  the  foundation 
of  "The  Parent's  Assistant."  When  her  father  was 
with  her  she  always  wrote  a  sketch  of  an  intended  story, 
and  submitted  it  to  his  approval,  being  invariably  guided 
by  his  advice.  In  October  Maria  was  desired  to  follow 
her  parents  to  Clifton,  bringing  nearly  all  the  children 
with  her,  a  formidable  undertaking  for  a  young  girl  in 
those  days  of  difficult  traveling. 

TO    MRS.   RUXTON.1 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  October,  1791. 

My  dear  mother  is  safe  and  well,  and  a  fine  new 
sister,  I  suppose  you  have  heard.  My  very  dear  aunt, 
since  the  moment  I  came  home  till  this  instant  my 
hands  have  trembled,  and  my  head  whirled  with  busi- 
ness; but  the  delightful  hope  of  seeing  my  dear  father 
and  mother  at  Bristol  is  in  fine  perspective  at  the  end. 
My  father  has  just  written  the  kindest  letter  possible, 
and  Emmeline  is  transcribing  his  directions  about  our 
journey.  We  are  to  set  off  as  soon  as  we  can  —  on 
Tuesday  morning  next,  I  believe,  for  my  father  is  ex- 
tremely impatient  for  us  to  come  over.  I  write  by  this 
night's  post  to  Mr.  Hanna,  to  take  lodgings  for  us  in 
Dublin,  and  we  are,  as  you  will  see,  to  go  by  Holyhead. 
1  After  returning  from  a  visit  to  Black  Castle. 


1791]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  17 

As  to  coining  round  by  Black  Castle,  it  is  out  of  the 
question.  For  everybody's  sake  but  my  own,  I  regret 
this :  for  my  own  I  do  not,  the  few  hours  I  should  have 
to  spend  in  your  company  would  not,  my  dearest  aunt, 
balance  the  pain  of  parting  with  you  all  again,  which  I 
did  feel  thoroughly,  and  if  I  had  not  had  the  kindest 
friends  and  the  fullest  occupation  the  moment  I  came 
home,  I  should  have  been  in  the  lamentables  a  long 
time.  Tell  my  dear  uncle  I  never  shall  forget  the  kind- 
ness of  his  manner  towards  me  during  the  whole  of  my 
stay  at  Black  Castle,  and  the  belief  that  he  thinks  well 
of  his  little  niece  adds  much  to  her  happiness,  perhaps 
to  her  vanity,  which  he  will  say  there  was  no  occasion 
to  increase.  And  now,  dear  Sophy,  for  your  roaring 
blade,  Thomas  Day,  Esq.,1  he  is  in  readiness  to  wait 
upon  you  whenever  you  can;  will  you  have  the  charity 
to  receive  him?  Name  the  day,  my  dear  aunt,  which 
will  be  the  least  inconvenient  if  you  can,  and  Molly  or 
John  Langan  shall  bring  him  in  the  old  or  new  chaise 
to  your  door,  where  I  hope  he  will  not  salute  you  with 
a  cry,  but  if  he  does,  do  not  be  surprised. 

You  see,  my  dear  aunt,  that  I  am  in  a  great  hurry  by 
my  writing,  but  no  hurry,  believe  me,  can  drive  out  of 
my  mind  the  remembrance  of  all  the  kindness  I  received 
at  Black  Castle.  Oh,  continue  to  love  your  niece;  you 
cannot  imagine  the  pleasure  she  felt  when  you  kissed 
her,  and  said  you  loved  her  a  thousand  times  better 
than  ever  you  did  before. 

1  This  little  brother  was  born  the  day  before  the  Edgeworth  family 
received  the  news  of  the  sudden  death  of  their  old  friend  Mr.  Day,  in 
1789. 


18  MAEIA  EDGEWOETH  [DEC. 

ME.  SMITH'S,  HOLTHEAD,  Friday  Morning. 
We  are  this  instant  arrived,  my  dear  aunt,  after  a 
thirty-three  hours'  passage;  all  the  children  safe  and 
well,  but  desperately  sick;  poor  little  Sneyd  especially. 
The  packet  is  just  returning,  and  my  head  is  so  giddy 
that  I  scarcely  know  what  I  write,  but  you  will  only 
expect  a  few  shabby  lines  to  say  we  are  not  drowned. 
Mr.  Ussher  Edge  worth  l  and  my  Aunt  Fox's  servant 
saw  us  on  board,  and  Mr.  E.  was  so  very  good  to  come 
in  the  wherry  with  us  and  see  us  into  the  ship.  We 
had  the  whole  cabin  to  ourselves;  no  passenger,  except 
one  gentleman,  son-in-law  to  Mr.  Dawson,  of  Ardee;  he 
was  very  civil  to  us,  and  assisted  us  much  in  landing, 
etc.  I  felt,  besides,  very  glad  to  see  one  who  knew 
anything  even  of  the  name  of  Kuxton.  Adieu,  my 
dear  aunt ;  all  the  sick  pale  figures  around  me  with  faint 
voices  send  their  love  to  you  and  my  uncle. 

TO    MR.    RUXTON. 

PRINCE'S  BUILDINGS,  CLIFTON, 
December  29,  1791. 

MY  DEAR  UNCLE,  — If  you  are  going  to  the  canal 
put  this  letter  in  your  pocket,  and  do  not  be  troubled  in 
your  conscience  about  reading  it,  but  keep  it  till  you  are 
perfectly  at  leisure :  for  I  have  nothing  strange  or  new 
to  tell  you.  We  live  just  the  same  kind  of  life  that 
we  used  to  do  at  Edgeworthstown ;  and,  though  we  move 
amongst  numbers,  are  not  moved  by  them,  but  feel 
independent  of  them  for  our  daily  amusement.  All  the 
phantasmas  I  had  conjured  up  to  frighten  myself  van- 
1  Brother  to  the  Abbe*  Edgeworth,  who  resided  in  Dublin. 


1791]  TO  MR.   RUXTON  19 

ished  after  I  had  been  here  a  week,  for  I  found  that 
they  were  but  phantoms  of  my  imagination,  as  you  very 
truly  told  me.  We  live  very  near  the  Downs,  where 
we  have  almost  every  day  charming  walks,  and  all  the 
children  go  bounding  about  over  hill  and  dale  along 
with  us.  My  aunt  told  me  that  once  when  you  were  at 
Clifton,  when  full  dressed  to  go  to  a  ball  at  Bath,  you 
suddenly  changed  your  mind,  and  undressed  again,  to 
go  out  a  walking  with  her,  and  now  that  I  see  the 
walks,  I  am  not  surprised,  even  if  you  were  not  to  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  my  aunt's  company.  My  father  has 
got  a  transfer  of  a  ticket  for  the  Bristol  library,  which 
is  an  extremely  fine  one;  and  what  makes  it  appear  ten 
times  finer  is,  that  it  is  very  difficult  for  strangers  to  get 
into.  From  thence  he  can  get  almost  any  book  for  us 
he  pleases,  except  a  few  of  the  most  scarce,  which  are 
by  the  laws  of  the  library  immovable.  No  ladies  go 
to  the  library,  but  Mr.  Johns,  the  librarian,  is  very 
civil,  and  my  mother  went  to  his  rooms  and  saw  the 
beautiful  prints  in  Boy  dell's  Shakespeare.  Lavater  is 
to  come  home  in  a  coach  to-day.  My  father  seems  to 
think  much  the  same  of  him  that  you  did  when  you  saw 
him  abroad,  that  to  some  genius  he  adds  a  good  deal  of 
the  mountebank.  My  father  is  going  soon  to  Bath. 
Madame  de  Genlis  is  there,  and  he  means  to  present  the 
translation  of  "Adele  and  Theodore"  to  her;1  he  had 
intended  to  have  had  me  introduced  to  her,  but  upon 
inquiry  he  was  informed  that  she  is  not  visited  by 
demoiselles  in  England. 

1  Maria  Edgeworth,  by  her  father's  advice,  had  made  a  translation 
of  Adele  et  Theodore  in  1782,  but  the  appearance  of  Holcroft's  transla- 
tion prevented  its  publication. 


20  MARIA   EDGEWOETH  [1791 

For  some  time  I  kept  a  Bristol  journal,  which  I 
intended  to  send  to  Black  Castle  in  form  of  a  newspaper, 
but  I  found  that  though  every  day's  conversation  and 
occurrences  appeared  of  prodigious  importance  just  at 
the  moment  they  were  passing,  yet  afterwards  they 
seemed  so  flat  and  stale  as  not  to  be  worth  sending.  I 
must  however  tell  you  that  I  had  materials  for  one  bril- 
liant paragraph  about  the  Duchess  of  York.  Mr.  Lloyd 
had  seen  the  wondrous  sight.  "When  she  was  to  be 
presented  to  the  Queen,  H.  E.  H.  kept  Her  Majesty 
waiting  nearly  an  hour,  till  at  last  the  Queen,  fearing 
that  some  accident  had  happened,  sent  to  let  the  Duchess 
know  that  she  was  waiting  for  her.  When  the  Duchess 
at  length  arrived,  she  was  so  frightened  —  for  a  Royal 
Duchess  can  be  frightened  as  well  as  another  —  that  she 
trembled  and  tottered  in  crossing  the  presence  chamber 
so  that  she  was  obliged  to  be  supported.  She  is  very 
timid,  and  never  once  raised  her  eyes,  so  that  our  corre- 
spondent cannot  speak  decidedly  as  to  the  expression  of 
her  countenance,  but  if  we  may  be  allowed  to  say  so, 
she  is  not  a  beauty,  and  is  very  low.  She  was  dressed 
in  white  and  gold,"  etc.,  etc. 

The  children  all  desire  their  love;  they  were  playing 
the  other  day  at  going  to  Black  Castle,  and  begged  me 
to  be  Aunt  Ruxton,  which  I  assured  them  I  would  if  I 
could !  but  they  insisted  on  my  being  Sophy,  Letty,  and 
Margaret  at  the  same  time,  and  were  not  quite  contented 
at  my  pleading  this  to  be  out  of  my  power. 


1792]  TO   MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  21 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    BUXTON. 

CLIFTOK,  March  9, 1792. 

I  wish,  my  dear  Sophy,  that  you  could  know  how 
often  I  think  of  you  and  wish  for  you,  whenever  we  see 
or  hear  anything  that  I  imagine  you  would  like.  How 
does  your  ward  go  on?  My  mother  desires  me  to  say 
the  kindest  things  to  you,  and  assure  yourself,  my  dear 
Sophy,  that  when  my  mother  says  the  kindest,  they  are 
always  at  the  same  time  the  truest.  She  is  not  a  person 
ever  to  forget  a  favor,  and  the  care  and  trouble  you  are 
now  bestowing  on  little  Thomas  Day  will  be  remembered 
probably  after  you  have  forgotten  it.  But  my  father 
interrupts  me  at  this  moment,  to  say  that  if  I  am  writ- 
ing to  Sophy  I  must  give  him  some  room  at  the  end,  so 
I  shall  leave  off  my  fine  speeches.  We  spend  our  time 
very  agreeably  here,  and  have  in  particular  great  choice 
of  books.  I  don't  think  the  children  are  quite  as  happy 
here  as  they  used  to  be  at  home;  it  is  impossible  they 
should  be,  for  they  have  neither  the  same  occupations 
or  liberty.  It  is  however  ' "  restraint  that  sweetens 
liberty,"  and  the  joy  they  show  when  they  run  upon 
the  Downs,  hunting  fossils,  and  clambering,  is  indeed 
very  great.  Henry  flatters  himself  that  he  shall  some 
time  or  other  have  the  pleasure  of  exhibiting  his  collec- 
tion to  Cousin  Sophy,  and  rehearses  frequently  in  the 
character  of  showman.  Dr.  Darwin  has  been  so  good 
as  to  send  him  several  fossils,  etc.,  with  their  names 
written  upon  them,  and  he  is  every  day  adding  to  his 
little  stock  of  laming.  There  is  a  very  sensible  man 
here  who  has  also  made  him  presents  of  little  things 
which  he  values  much,  and  he  begins  to  mess  a  great 


22  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

deal  with  gums,  camphor,  etc.  He  will  at  least  never 
come  under  Dr.  Darwin's  definition  of  a  fool.  "A  fool, 
Mr.  Edgeworth,  you  know,  is  a  man  who  never  tried 
an  experiment  in  his  life."  My  father  tells  me  that 
Henry  has  acquired  a  taste  for  improving  himself,  and 
that  all  he  has  now  to  fear  is  my  taste  for  improving 
him. 

We  went  the  other  day  to  see  a  collection  of  natural 
curiosities  at  a  Mr.  Broderip's,  of  Bristol,  which  enter- 
tained us  very  much.  My  father  observed  he  had  but 
very  few  butterflies,  and  he  said,  "No,  sir,  a  circum- 
stance which  happened  to  me  some  time  ago  determined 
me  never  to  collect  any  more  butterflies.  I  caught  a 
most  beautiful  butterfly,  thought  I  had  killed  it,  and 
ran  a  pin  through  its  body  to  fasten  it  to  a  cork :  a  fort- 
night afterward  I  happened  to  look  in  the  box  where  I 
had  left  it,  and  T  saw  it  writhing  in  agony :  since  that 
time  I  have  never  destroyed  another." 

My  father  has  just  returned  from  Dr.  Darwin's, 
where  he  has  been  nearly  three  weeks;  they  were 
extremely  kind,  and  pressed  him  very  much  to  take  a 
house  in  or  near  Derby  for  the  summer.  He  has  been, 
as  Dr.  Darwin  expressed  it,  "breathing  the  breath  of 
life  into  the  brazen  lungs  of  a  clock"  which  he  had 
made  at  Edgeworthstown  as  a  present  for  him.  He  saw 
the  first  part  of  Dr.  Darwin's  "Botanic  Garden;"  £900 
was  what  his  bookseller  gave  him  for  the  whole !  On 
his  return  from  Derby,  my  father  spent  a  day  with  Mr. 
Keir,  the  great  chemist,  at  Birmingham:  he  was  speak- 
ing to  him  of  the  late  discovery  of  fulminating  silver, 
with  which  I  suppose  your  ladyship  is  well  acquainted, 
though  it  be  new  to  Henry  and  me.  A  lady  and  gen- 


1792]  TO  MISS  SOPHY  RUXTON  23 

tleman  went  into  a  laboratory  where  a  few  grains  of 
fulminating  silver  were  lying  in  a  mortar:  the  gentle- 
man, as  he  was  talking,  happened  to  stir  it  with  the 
end  of  his  cane,  which  was  tipped  with  iron,  —  the  ful- 
minating silver  exploded  instantly,  and  blew  the  lady, 
the  gentleman,  and  the  whole  laboratory  to  pieces! 
Take  care  how  you  go  into  laboratories  with  gentlemen, 
unless  they  are,  like  Sir  Plume,  skilled  in  the  "nice 
conduct "  of  their  canes. 

Have  you  seen  any  of  the  things  that  have  been  lately 
published  about  the  negroes?  We  have  just  read  a 
very  small  pamphlet  of  about  ten  pages,  merely  an 
account  of  the  facts  stated  to  the  House  of  Commons. 
Twenty-five  thousand  people  in  England  have  absolutely 
left  off  eating  West  India  sugar,  from  the  hope  that 
when  there  is  no  longer  any  demand  for  sugar  the  slaves 
will  not  be  so  cruelly  treated.  Children  in  several 
schools  have  given  up  sweet  things,  which  is  surely  very 
benevolent;  though  whether  it  will  at  all  conduce  to 
the  end  proposed  is  perhaps  wholly  uncertain,  and  in 
the  mean  time  we  go  on  eating  apple  pies  sweetened 
with  sugar  instead  of  with  honey.  At  Mr.  Keir's, 
however,  my  father  avers  that  he  ate  excellent  custards 
sweetened  with  honey.  Will  it  not  be  rather  hard  upon 
the  poor  bees  in  the  end? 

Mrs.  Yearsly,  the  milkwoman,  whose  poems  I  dare 
say  my  aunt  has  seen,  lives  very  near  us  at  Clifton:  we 
have  never  seen  her,  and  probably  never  shall,  for  my 
father  is  so  indignant  against  her  for  her  ingratitude  to 
her  benefactress,  Miss  Hannah  More,  that  he  thinks  she 
deserves  to  be  treated  with  neglect.  She  was  dying, 
absolutely  expiring  with  hunger,  when  Miss  More  found 


24  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

her.  Her  mother  was  a  washerwoman,  and  washed  for 
Miss  More's  family;  by  accident,  in  a  tablecloth  which 
was  sent  to  her  was  left  a  silver  spoon,  which  Mrs. 
Yearsly  returned.  Struck  with  this  instance  of  hon- 
esty, which  was  repeated  to  her  by  the  servants,  Miss 
More  sent  for  her,  discovered  her  distress  and  her 
genius,  and  though  she  was  extremely  eager  in  prepar- 
ing some  of  her  own  works  for  the  press,  she  threw 
them  all  aside  to  correct  Mrs.  Yearsly 's  poems,  and 
obtained  for  her  a  subscription  of  £600.  In  return, 
Mrs.  Yearsly  accused  her  of  having  defrauded  her,  of 
having  been  actuated  only  by  vanity  in  bringing  her 
abilities  to  light  —  a  new  species  of  vanity  from  one 
authoress  to  another  —  in  short,  abused  her  in  the  basest 
and  most  virulent  manner.  Would  you  go  to  see  Mrs. 
Yearsly  1 

Lo!  I  have  almost  filled  the  Bristol  Chronicle,  and 
have  yet  much  that  I  wish  to  say  to  you,  dear  Sophy, 
and  that  I  could  tell  you  in  one  half  hour,  talking  at 
my  usual  rate  of  nine  miles  an  hour;  when  that  will  be, 
it  is  impossible  to  tell.  My  mother  is  now  getting 
better.  All  the  children  are  perfectly  well;  Bessy's 
eyes  are  not  inflamed;  Charlotte  est  faite  a  peindre  et 
plus  encore  a  aimer,  if  that  were  French. 

Little  Thomas  Day  Edgeworth  died  at  the  age  of 
three,  whilst  he  was  in  the  care  of  the  Euxtons,  and 
about  the  same  time  Maria  Edgeworth 's  own  brother 
Richard,  who  had  paid  a  long  visit  to  his  family  at 
Clifton,  returned  to  North  Carolina,  where  he  had  mar- 
ried and  was  already  a  father. 


1792]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  25 

TO   MISS    SOPHY    RUXTON. 

ASHTON  BOWER,  CLIFTON,  August  14, 1792. 

Last  Saturday  my  poor  brother  Richard  took  leave 
of  us  to  return  to  America.  He  has  gone  up  to  London 
with  my  father  and  mother,  and  is  to  sail  from  thence. 
We  could  not  part  with  him  without  great  pain  and 
regret,  for  he  made  us  all  extremely  fond  of  him.  I 
wish  my  dear  aunt  could  have  seen  him;  he  was  very 
sensible  of  her  kindness,  and  longed  to  have  a  letter 
from  her.  He  is  to  come  over  in  '95.  Emmeline  is 
still  with  Lady  Holt  and  Mrs.  Bracebridge,  at  Ather- 
stone,  in  Warwickshire.  Miss  Bracebridge,  grand- 
daughter to  Lady  Holt,  is  a  very  agreeable  companion 
to  my  sister,  though  some  years  younger,  and  she  enjoys 
the  society  at  Atherstone  very  much.  They  are  most 
unwilling  to  part  with  her;  but  now  she  has  been  absent 
two  months,  and  we  all  begin  to  growl  for  her  return, 
especially  now  that  my  brother  is  gone,  who  was  "in 
himself  a  host." 

I  am  engaged  to  go  in  October  to  pay  a  visit  to  Mrs. 
Charles  Hoare.  I  believe  you  may  remember  my  talk- 
ing to  you  of  this  lady,  and  my  telling  you  that  she  was 
my  friend  at  school,1  and  had  corresponded  with  me 
since.  She  was  at  Lisbon  when  we  first  came  to  Eng- 
land, and  I  thought  I  had  little  prospect  of  seeing  her, 
but  the  moment  she  returned  to  England  she  wrote  to 
me  in  the  kindest  and  most  pressing  manner  to  beg  I 
would  come  to  her.  Immediately  after  this,  I  dare  not 
add  that  she  is  a  most  amiable  and  sensible  woman,  lest 
i  Miss  Robinson. 


26  MAKIA  EDGEWOETH  [AUGUST 

Sophy  should  exclaim,  "Ah!  vanity!  because  she  likes 
you,  Mademoiselle  Marie !  " 

My  uncle,  William  Sneyd,  whom  I  believe  you  saw 
at  Edgeworthstown,  has  just  been  with  us  for  three 
weeks,  and  in  that  time  filled  five  quires  of  paper  with 
dried  plants  from  the  neighboring  rocks.  He  says  there 
is  at  Clifton  the  richest  harvest  for  botanists.  How  I 
wish  you  were  here  to  reap  it.  Henry  and  I  will  col- 
lect anything  that  we  are  informed  is  worthy  of  your 
Serene  Highness 's  collection.  There  is  a  species  of 
cistus  which  grows  on  S.  Vincent's  rock,  which  is  not, 
I  am  told,  to  be  found  in  any  other  part  of  England. 
Helpless  as  I  am  and  scoffed  at  in  these  matters,  I  will 
contrive  to  get  some  of  it  for  you.  A  shoemaker 
showed  us  a  tortoise  shell  which  he  had  for  sale.  I 
wished  to  have  bought  it  for  La  Sophie,  but  upon 
inquiry  I  found  it  could  not  be  had  for  less  than  a 
guinea;  now  I  thought  at  the  utmost  it  would  not  give 
Sophy  above  half  a  crown's  worth  of  pleasure,  so  I  left 
the  shoemaker  in  quiet  possession  of  his  African  tor- 
toise. He  had  better  fortune  with  two  shells,  admirals, 
which  he  sold  to  Lady  Valentia  for  three  guineas. 

We  begin  to  be  hungry  for  letters.  The  children  all 
desire  their  love  to  you;  Charlotte  is  very  engaging, 
and  promises  to  be  handsome;  Sneyd  is  and  promises 
everything;  Henry  will,  I  think,  through  life  always  do 
more  than  he  promises;  little  Honora  is  a  sprightly, 
blue-eyed  child,  at  nurse  with  a  woman  who  is  the  pic- 
ture of  health  and  simplicity,  in  a  beautiful  romantic 
cottage,  just  such  a  cottage  as  you  would  imagine  for 
the  residence  of  health  and  simplicity.  Lovell  is  per- 
fectly well,  and  desires  his  kind  love  to  you.  Dr. 


1792]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  27 

Darwin  has  paid  him  very  handsome  compliments  in  his 
lines  on  the  Barbarini  vase,  in  the  first  part  of  the 
"Botanic  Garden,"  which  my  father  has  just  got. 

Has  my  aunt  seen  the  "Romance  of  the  Forest"? 
It  has  been  the  fashionable  novel  here,  everybody  read 
and  talked  of  it;  we  were  much  interested  in  some  parts 
of  it.  It  is  something  in  the  style  of  the  "Castle  of 
Otranto,"  and  the  horrible  parts  are,  we  thought,  well 
worked  up,  but  it  is  very  difficult  to  keep  Horror  breath- 
less with  his  mouth  wide  open  through  three  volumes. 

Adieu,  my  dear  Sophy:  do  not  let  my  aunt  forget 
me,  for  I  love  her  very  much;  and  as  for  yourself,  take 
care  not  to  think  too  highly  of  Cousin  Maria,  but  see 
her  faults  with  indulgence,  and  you  will,  I  think,  find 
her  a  steady  and  affectionate  friend. 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    KUXTON. 

FLEET  STREET,  LONDON,  October  17,  1792. 

I  have  been  with  Mrs.  Charles  Hoare  a  week,  and 
before  I  left  Clifton  had  a  budget  in  my  head  for  a 
letter  to  you,  which  I  really  had  not  a  moment's  time 
to  write.  I  left  them  all  very  well,  just  going  to  leave 
Ashton  Bower,  which  I  am  not  sorry  for,  though  it  has 
such  a  pretty,  romantic  name;  it  is  not  a  fit  Bower  to 
live  in  in  winter,  it  is  so  cold  and  damp.  They  are 
going  to  Prince's  Place  again,  and  I  dare  say  will  fix 
there  for  the  winter,  though  my  father  has  talked  of 
Bath  and  Plymouth. 

I  find  in  half-rubbed-out  notes  in  my  pocket-book, 
"  Sophy  —  Slave-ship :  Sophy  —  Rope- walk :  Sophy  — 
Marine  acid:  Sophy  —  Earthquake:  Sophy  —  Glass- 
house," etc. :  and  I  intended  to  tell  you  au  longue  of 
these. 


28  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [OCT. 

We  went  on  board  a  slave-ship  with  my  brother,  and 
saw  the  dreadfully  small  hole  in  which  the  poor  slaves 
are  stowed  together,  so  that  they  cannot  stir.  But 
probably  you  know  all  this. 

Mrs.  Hoare  was  at  Lisbon  during  two  slight  shocks 
of  an  earthquake;  she  says  the  night  was  remarkably 
fine,  there  was  no  unwholesome  feeling  that  she  can 
remember  in  the  air,  immediately  preceding  the  shock: 
but  they  were  sitting  with  the  windows  open  down  to 
the  ground,  looking  at  the  clearness  of  the  sky,  when 
they  felt  the  shock.  The  doors  and  windows,  and  all 
the  furniture  in  the  room,  shook  for  a  few  instants ;  they 
looked  at  one  another  in  silent  terror.  But  in  another 
instant  everything  was  still,  and  they  came  to  the  use 
of  their  voices.  Numbers  of  exaggerated  accounts  were 
put  into  the  public  papers,  and  she  received  vast  num- 
bers of  terrified  letters  from  her  friends  in  England. 
So  much  for  the  earthquake.  The  marine  acid  I  must 
leave  till  I  have  my  father  at  my  elbow,  lest  in  my 
great  wisdom  I  should  set  you  wrong. 

About  the  glasshouse:  there  is  one  Stephens,  an  Eng- 
lishman, who  has  set  up  a  splendid  glasshouse  at  Lisbon, 
and  the  government  have  granted  him  a  pine  wood  six- 
teen miles  in  extent  to  supply  his  glasshouse  with  fuel. 
He  has  erected  a  theatre  for  his  workmen,  supplied 
them  with  scenes,  dresses,  etc. ;  and  they  have  acquired 
such  a  taste  for  theatrical  amusements  that  it  has  con- 
quered their  violent  passion  for  drinking,  which  formerly 
made  them  incapable  of  work  three  days  in  the  week; 
now  they  work  as  hard  as  possible,  and  amuse  them- 
selves for  one  day  in  the  week. 

Of  the  beauty  of  the  Tagus,  and  its  golden  sands, 


1792]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  29 

and  the  wolves  which  Mrs.  Hoare  had  the  satisfaction 
of  seeing  hunted,  I  must  speak  when  I  see  you.  Mrs 
Hoare  is  as  kind  as  possible  to  me,  and  I  spend  my 
time  at  Roehampton  as  I  like;  in  London  that  is  not 
entirely  possible.  We  have  only  come  up  to  town  for 
a  few  days.  Mr.  Hoare 's  house  at  Roehampton  is 
an  excellent  one  indeed  —  a  library  with  nice  books, 
small  tables  upon  casters,  low  sofas,  and  all  the  other 
things  which  make  rooms  comfortable.  Lady  Hoare,  his 
mother,  is  said  to  be  a  very  amiable,  sensible  woman: 
I  have  seen  her  only  once,  but  I  was  much  entertained 
at  her  house  at  Barnelms,  looking  at  the  pictures.  I 
saw  Zeluco's  figure  in  Le  Brun's  "Massacre  of  the  Inno- 
cents." My  aunt  will  laugh,  and  think  that  I  am  giv- 
ing myself  great  airs  when  I  talk  of  being  entertained 
looking  at  pictures;  but  assure  her  that  I  remember 
what  she  used  to  say  about  taste,  and  that  without 
affectation  I  have  endeavored  to  look  at  everything 
worth  seeing. 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

STANHOPE  STREET,  LONDON, 
November  6,  1792. 

I  left  Roehampton  yesterday,  and  took  leave  of  my 
friend  Mrs.  Charles  Hoare,  with  a  high  opinion  of  her 
abilities,  and  a  still  higher  opinion  of  her  goodness. 
She  was  exceedingly  kind  to  me,  and  I  spent  most  of 
my  time  with  her  as  I  liked;  I  say  most,  because  a  good 
deal  of  it  was  spent  in  company  where  I  heard  of 
nothing  but  chariots  and  horses,  and  curricles  and  tan- 
dems. Oh,  to  what  contempt  I  exposed  myself  in  a 
luckless  hour  by  asking  what  a  tandem  was!  I  am 


30  MA£IA  EDGEWORTH  [1792 

going  in  a  few  days  to  meet  Mrs.  Powys  at  Bath. 
Since  I  have  been  away  from  home  I  have  missed  the 
society  and  fondness  of  my  father,  mother,  and  sisters 
more  than  I  can  express,  and  more  than  beforehand  I 
should  have  thought  possible;  I  long  to  see  them  all 
again.  Even  when  I  am  most  amused  I  feel  a  void, 
and  now  I  understand  what  an  aching  void  is  perfectly 
welL  You  know  they  are  going  back  to  Prince's  Build- 
ings to  the  nice  house  we  had  last  winter ;  and  Emme- 
line  writes  me  word  that  the  great  red  puddle  which  we 
used  to  call  the  B>ed  Sea,  and  which  we  were  forced  to 
wade  through  before  we  could  get  to  the  Downs,  will 
not  this  winter  be  so  terrible,  for  my  father  has  made 
a  footpath  for  his  "host." 

CLIFTON,  December  13, 1792. 
(The  day  we  received  yours.) 

The  day  of  retribution  is  at  hand,  my  dear  aunt :  the 
month  of  May  will  soon  come,  and  then,  when  we  meet 
face  to  face,  and  voucher  to  voucher,  it  shall  be  truly 
seen  whose  letter-writing  account  stands  fullest  and 
fairest  in  the  world.  Till  then,  "we  '11  leave  it  all  to 
your  honor's  honor."  But  why  does  my  dear  aunt 
write,  "  I  can  have  but  little  more  time  to  spend  with 
my  brother  in  my  life  t "  *  as  if  she  was  an  old  woman 
of  one  hundred  and  ninety-nine  and  upwards!  I  re- 
member, the  day  I  left  Black  Castle,  you  told  me,  if 
you  recollect,  that  you  "had  one  foot  in  the  grave;" 
and  though  I  saw  you  standing  before  me  in  perfect 
health,  sound  wind  and  limb,  I  had  the  weakness  to 
feel  frightened,  and  never  to  think  of  examining  where 
your  feet  really  were.  But  in  the  month  of  May  we 
i  Mrs.  Ruxton  lived  thirty-nine  yean  after  this  letter  was  written. 


1793]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  31 

hope  to  find  them  safe  in  your  shoes,  and  I  hope  that 
the  sun  will  then  shine  out,  and  that  all  the  black 
clouds  in  the  political  horizon  will  be  dispersed,  and 
that  "freemen"  will  by  that  time  eat  their  puddings 
and  hold  their  tongues.  Anna  and  I  stayed  one  week 
with  Mrs.  Powys1  at  Bath,  and  were  very  thoroughly 
occupied  all  the  time  with  seeing  and  —  I  won't  say 
with  being  seen;  for  though  we  were  at  three  balls,  I 
do  not  believe  any  one  saw  us.  The  Upper  Rooms  we 
thought  very  splendid,  and  the  playhouse  pretty,  but 
not  so  good  as  the  theatre  at  Bristol.  We  walked  all 
over  Bath  with  my  father,  and  liked  it  extremely:  he 
showed  us  the  house  where  he  was  born. 

GLOUCESTER  Row,  CLIFTOK, 
July  21,  1793. 

My  father  is  just  returned  to  us  from  Mr.  Keir's. 
.  .  .  Come  over  to  us,  since  we  cannot  go  to  you. 
"Ah,  Maria,  you  know  I  would  come  if  I  could."  But 
can't  you,  who  are  a  great  woman,  trample  upon  impos- 
sibilities? It  is  two  years  since  we  saw  you,  and  we 
are  tired  of  recollecting  how  kind  and  agreeable  you 
were.  Are  you  the  same  Aunt  Kuxton?  Come  and 
see  whether  we  are  the  same,  and  whether  there  are  any 
people  in  the  world  out  of  your  own  house  who  know 
your  value  better. 

During  the  hot  weather  the  thermometer  was  often 
80,  and  once  88.  Mr.  Neville,  a  banker,  has  taken  a 
house  here,  and  was  to  have  been  my  father's  traveling 
companion,  but  left  him  at  Birmingham:  he  has  a  fish- 
ing-stool and  a  wife.  We  like  the  fishing-stool  and  the 
1  The  most  intimate  friend  of  Mrs.  Honora  Edge-worth. 


32  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1793 

wife,  but  have  not  yet  seen  the  family.  My  father  last 
night  wrote  a  letter  of  recommendation  to  you  for  a  Mr. 
Jimbernat,  a  Spanish  gentleman,  son  to  the  King  of 
Spain's  surgeon,  who  is  employed  by  his  Court  to  travel 
for  scientific  purposes:  he  drank  tea  with  us,  and  seems 
very  intelligent.  Till  I  saw  him  I  thought  a  Spaniard 
must  be  tall  and  stately:  one  may  be  mistaken. 

Adieu,  for  there  are  matters  of  high  import  coming, 
fit  only  for  the  pen  of  pens. 

R.  L.  EDGEWORTH,  in  continuation. 
The  matters  of  high  importance,  my  dear  sister,  have 
been  already  communicated  to  you  in  brief,  and  indeed 
cannot  be  detailed  by  any  but  the  parties.  Dr.  Bed- 
does,  the  object  of  Anna's  vows,1  is  a  man  of  abilities, 
and  of  great  name  in  the  scientific  world  as  a  naturalist 
and  chemist  —  good-humored,  good-natured,  a  man  of 
honor  and  virtue,  enthusiastic  and  sanguine,  and  very 
fond  of  Anna. 

MARIA    TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  November  18, 1793. 
This  evening  my  father  has  been  reading  out  Gay's 
"Trivia"  to  our  great  entertainment.  I  wished  very 
much,  my  dear  aunt,  that  you  and  Sophy  had  been  sit- 
ting round  the  fire  with  us.  If  you  have  "Trivia," 
and  if  you  have  time,  will  you  humor  your  niece  so  far 
as  to  look  at  it  ?  I  think  there  are  many  things  in  it 
which  will  please  you,  especially  the  "Patten  and  the 
Shoeblack,"  and  the  old  woman  hovering  over  her  little 

1  Dr.  Thomas  Beddoes,  the  celebrated  physician  and  chemist,  fol- 
lowed the  Edgeworth  family  to  Ireland,  where  he  was  married  to 
Anna  Edgeworth,  Maria's  youngest  own  sister. 


1794]  TO  MISS  SOPHY  EUXTON  33 

fire  in  a  hard  winter.  Pray  tell  me  if  you  like  it.  I 
had  much  rather  make  a  bargain  with  any  one  I  loved 
to  read  the  same  book  with  them  at  the  same  hour,  than 
to  look  at  the  moon  like  Rousseau's  famous  lovers. 
"Ah!  that  is  because  my  dear  niece  has  no  taste  and  no 
eyes. "  But  I  assure  you  I  am  learning  the  use  of  my 
eyes  main  fast,  and  make  no  doubt,  please  Heaven  I 
live  to  be  sixty,  to  see  as  well  as  my  neighbors. 

I  am  scratching  away  very  hard  at  the  Freeman 
Family.1 

In  November,  1793,  the  Edgeworth  family  returned  to 
Ireland,  where  Mr.  Edgeworth 's  inventive  genius  became 
occupied  with  a  system  of  telegraphy  on  which  he  ex- 
pended much  time  and  money.  It  was  offered  to  the 
government,  but  declined.  Maria  Edgeworth  was  occu- 
pied at  this  time  with  her  "  Letters  for  Literary  Ladies, " 
as  well  as  with  "Toys  and  Tasks,"  which  formed  one  of 
her  chapters  on  "Practical  Education." 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  February  23, 1794. 

Thank  my  aunt  and  thank  yourself  for  kind  inquiries 
after  "Letters  for  Literary  Ladies."2  I  am  sorry  to 
say  they  are  not  as  well  as  can  be  expected,  nor  are  they 
likely  to  mend  at  present:  when  they  are  fit  to  be  seen 
—  if  that  happy  time  ever  arrives  —  their  first  visit 
shall  be  to  Black  Castle.  They  are  now  disfigured  by 
all  manner  of  crooked  marks  of  papa's  critical  indigna- 

1  Patronage,  which,  however,  was  laid  aside,  and  not  published  till 
1813. 
3  Published  in  1795 —an  early  plea  in  favor  of  female  education. 


34  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAY 

tion,  besides  various  abusive  marginal  notes,  which  I 
would  not  have  you  see  for  half  a  crown  sterling,  nor 
my  aunt  for  a  whole  crown  as  pure  as  King  Hiero's; 
with  which  crown  I  am  sure  you  are  acquainted,  and 
know  how  to  weigh  it  as  Honora  did  at  eight  years  old, 
though  Mr.  Day  would  not  believe  it.  I  think  my 
mother  is  better  this  evening,  but  she  is  so  very  cheer- 
ful when  she  has  a  moment's  respite  that  it  deceives 
us.  She  calls  Lovell  the  Minute  Philosopher  at  this 
instant,  because  he  is  drawing  with  the  assistance  of  a 
magnifying  glass  with  a  universal  joint  in  his  mouth; 
so  that  one  eye  can  see  through  it  while  he  draws  a 
beautifully  small  drawing  of  the  new  front  of  the  house. 
I  have  just  excited  his  envy  even  to  clasping  his  hands 
in  distraction,  by  telling  him  of  a  man  I  met  with  in 
the  middle  of  Grainger's  "Worthies  of  England,"  who 
drew  a  mill,  a  miller,  a  bridge,  a  man  and  horse  going 
over  the  bridge  with  a  sack  of  corn,  all  visible,  upon  a 
surface  that  would  just  cover  a  sixpence. 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWOETHSTOWN,  May  8,  1794. 

My  father  is  perfectly  well,  and  very  busy  out  of 
doors  and  indoors.  He  brought  back  certain  books  from 
Black  Castle,  amongst  which  I  was  glad  to  see  the 
"Fairy  Tales;"  and  he  has  related,  with  various  embel- 
lishments suited  to  the  occasion,  the  story  of  Fortunatus, 
to  the  great  delight  of  young  and  old,  especially  of 
Sneyd,  whose  eyes  and  cheeks  expressed  strong  approba- 
tion, and  who  repeated  it  afterwards  in  a  style  of  dra- 
matic oratory  which  you  would  have  known  how  to 
admire, 


1794]  TO  MRS.   ELIZABETH  EDGEWORTH  35 

We  are  reading  a  new  book  for  children,  "Evenings 
at  Home,"  which  we  admire  extremely.  Has  Sophy 
seen  them  ?  And  has  she  seen  the  fine  Aurora  Borealis 
which  was  to  be  seen  last  week,  and  which  my  father 
and  Lovell  saw  with  ecstasies?  The  candles  were  all 
put  out  in  the  library,  and  a  wonderful  bustle  made, 
before  I  rightly  comprehended  what  was  going  on. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  1794. 

I  will  look  for  the  volume  of  the  "  Tableau  de  Paris  " 
which  you  think  I  have;  and  if  it  is  in  the  land  of  the 
living,  it  shall  be  coming  forth  at  your  call.  Do  you 
remember  our  reading  in  it  of  the  garqon  perruquier 
who  dresses  in  black  on  a  Sunday,  and  leaves  his  every- 
day clothes,  white  and  heavy  with  powder,  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  which  he  dares  not  peep  into  after 
his  metamorphosis  ?  I  like  to  read  as  well  as  to  talk 
with  you,  my  dear  aunt,  because  you  mix  the  grave  and 
gay  together,  and  put  your  long  finger  upon  the  very 
passages  which  my  short,  stumpy  one  was  just  starting 
forward  to  point  out,  if  it  could  point. 

You  are  very  good  indeed  to  wish  for  "Toys  and 
Tasks,"  but  I  think  it  would  be  most  unreasonable  to 
send  them  to  you  now.  We  are  a  very  small  party, 
now  that  my  father,  Anna,  and  Lovell  are  gone;  but  I 
hope  we  shall  be  better  when  you  come. 

TO    MRS.    ELIZABETH    EDGEWORTH. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  1794. 

All's  well  at  home;  the  chickens  are  all  good  and 
thriving,  and  there  is  plenty  of  provender,  and  of  every- 
thing that  we  can  want  or  wish  for:  therefore  we  all 


36  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [JULY 

hope  that  you  will  fully  enjoy  the  pleasures  of  Black 
Castle  without  being  anxious  for  your  bairns. 

Pray  tell  my  dear  aunt  that  I  am  not  ungrateful  for 
all  the  kindness  she  showed  to  me  while  I  was  with 
her:  it  rejoiced  my  heart  to  hear  her  say,  when  she 
took  leave  of  me,  that  she  did  not  love  me  less  for 
knowing  me  better. 

Kitty  wakened  me  this  morning  saying,  "Dear, 
ma'am,  how  charming  you  smell  of  coals!  quite  charm- 
ing!" and  she  snuffed  the  ambient  air.1 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  July  2,  1794, 
having  the  honor  to  be  the  fair 
day  of  Edgeworthstown,  as  is  well 
proclaimed  to  the  neighborhood 
by  the  noise  of  pigs  squeaking, 
men  bawling,  women  brawling, 
and  children  squealing,  etc. 

I  will  tell  you  what  is  going  on,  that  you  may  see 
whether  you  like  your  daily  bill  of  fare. 

There  are,  an 't  please  you,  ma'am,  a  great  many  good 
things  here.  There  is  a  balloon  hanging  up,  and  an- 
other going  to  be  put  on  the  stocks;  there  is  soap  made, 
and  making  from  a  receipt  in  Nicholson's  "Chemistry;  " 
there  is  excellent  ink  made,  and  to  be  made  by  the  same 
book;  there  is  a  cake  of  roses  just  squeezed  in  a  vise, 
by  my  father,  according  to  the  advice  of  Madame  De 
Lagaraye,  the  woman  in  the  black  cloak  and  ruffles, 
who  weighs  with  unwearied  scales,  in  the  frontispiece  of 
a  book,  which  perhaps  my  aunt  remembers,  entitled 

1  The  coals  burned  at  Black  Castle  were  naturally  more  agreeable 
to  Mrs.  Billamore  (a  faithful  servant)  than  the  bog  turf  used  at  Edge- 
worthstown. 


1794]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  37 

"Chemie  de  Gout  et  de  POdorat."  There  are  a  set  of 
accurate  weights,  just  completed  by  the  ingenious 
Messrs.  Lovell  and  Henry  Edgeworth,  partners:  for 
Henry  is  now  a  junior  partner,  and  grown  an  inch  and 
a  half  upon  the  strength  of  it  in  two  months.  The  use 
and  ingenuity  of  these  weights  I  do,  or  did,  understand; 
it  is  great,  but  I  am  afraid  of  puzzling  you  and  disgra- 
cing myself  attempting  to  explain  it;  especially  as,  my 
mother  says,  I  once  sent  you  a  receipt  for  purifying 
water  with  charcoal,  which  she  avers  to  have  been  above, 
or  below,  the  comprehension  of  any  rational  being. 

My  father  bought  a  great  many  books  at  Mr.  Dean's 
sale.  Six  volumes  of  "Machines  Approuvds,"  full  of 
prints  of  paper  mills,  gunpowder  mills,  machines  pour 
ramonter  les  batteaux,  machines  pour  —  a  great  many 
things  which  you  would  like  to  see,  I  am  sure,  over  my 
father's  shoulder.  And  my  aunt  would  like  to  see  the 
new  staircase,  and  to  see  a  kitcat  view  of  a  robin  red- 
breast sitting  on  her  nest  in  a  sawpit,  discovered  by 
Lovell;  and  you  would  both  like  to  pick  Emmeline's 
fine  strawberries  round  the  crowded  oval  table  after 
dinner,  and  to  see  my  mother  look  so  much  better  in 
the  midst  of  us. 

If  these  delights  thy  soul  can  move, 
Come  live  with  us  and  be  our  love. 

TO    MKS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  August  11, 1794. 

Nothing  wonderful  or  interesting,  nothing  which 
touches  our  hopes  or  fears,  which  either  moves  us  to 
laugh  or  to  be  doleful,  can  happen  without  the  idea  of 
Aunt  Kuxton  immediately  arising.  This,  you  will 


38  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Auo. 

think,  is  the  preface  to  at  least  either  death  or  marriage; 
but  it  is  only  the  preface  to  a  history  of  Defenders. 

There  have  been  lately  several  flying  reports  of  De- 
fenders, but  we  never  thought  the  danger  near  till 
to-day.  Last  night  a  party  of  forty  attacked  the  house 
of  one  Hoxey,  about  half  a  mile  from  us,  and  took,  as 
usual,  the  arms.  They  have  also  been  at  Bingowny, 
where  there  was  only  one  servant  left  to  take  care  of 
the  house;  they  took  the  arms  and  broke  all  the  win- 
dows. To-day  Mr.  Bond,  our  high  sheriff,  paid  us  a 
pale  visit,  thought  it  was  proper  something  should  be 
done  for  the  internal  defense  of  the  town  of  Edgeworths- 
town  and  the  county  of  Longford,  and  wished  my  father 
would  apply  to  him  for  a  meeting  of  the  county.  My 
father  first  rode  over  to  the  scene  of  action,  to  inquire 
into  the  truth  of  the  reports;  found  them  true,  and  on 
his  return  to  dinner  found  Mr.  Thompson,  of  Clonfin, 
and  Captain  Doyle,  nephew  to  the  general  and  the 
wounded  colonel,  who  is  now  at  Granard.  Captain 
Doyle  will  send  a  sergeant  and  twelve  to-morrow;  to- 
night a  watch  is  to  sit  up,  but  it  is  supposed  that  the 
sight  of  two  redcoats  riding  across  the  country  together 
will  keep  the  evil  sprites  from  appearing  to  mortal  eyes 
"this  watch."  My  father  has  spoken  to  many  of  the 
householders,  and  he  imagines  they  will  come  here  to 
a  meeting  to-morrow,  to  consider  how  best  they  can 
defend  their  lands  and  tenements;  they  bring  their  arms 
to  my  father  to  take  care  of.  You  will  be  surprised  at 
our  making  such  a  mighty  matter  of  a  visit  from  the 
Defenders,  you  who  have  had  soldiers  sitting  up  in  your 
kitchen  for  weeks;  but  you  will  consider  that  this  is 
our  first  visit. 


1794]  TO  MISS  RUXTON  39 

The  arts  of  peace  are  going  on  prosperously.  The 
new  room  is  almost  built,  and  the  staircase  is  completed; 
long  may  we  live  to  run  up  and  down  it. 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  1794. 

I  will  treat  you,  my  dear  Letty,  like  a  lady  for  once, 
and  write  to  you  upon  blue-edged  paper,  because  you 
have  been  ill;  if  you  should  be  well  before  you  receive 
this,  I  shall  repent  of  the  extravagance  of  my  friend- 
ship. I  believe  it  was  you  —  or  my  aunt,  the  teller  of 
all  good  things  —  who  told  me  of  a  lady  who  took  a 
long  journey  to  see  her  sister,  who  she  heard  was  very 
ill;  but,  unfortunately,  the  sister  was  well  before  she 
got  to  her  journey's  end,  and  she  was  so  provoked  that 
she  quarrelled  with  her  well  sister,  and  would  never 
have  anything  more  to  do  with  her. 

You  will  look  very  blank  when  you  come  back  from 
the  sea  and  find  what  doings  there  have  been  at  Black 
Castle  in  your  absence.  Anna  was  extremely  sorry  that 
she  could  not  see  you  again  before  she  left  Ireland;  but 
you  will  soon  be  in  the  same  kingdom  again,  and  that 
is  one  great  point  gained,  as  Mr.  Weaver,  a  traveling 
astronomical  lecturer,  who  carried  the  universe  about  in 
a  box,  told  us.  "Sir,"  said  he  to  my  father,  "when 
you  look  at  a  map,  do  you  know  that  the  east  is  always 
on  your  right  hand,  and  the  west  on  your  left  1 " 
"Yes,"  replied  my  father,  with  a  very  modest  look,  "I 
believe  I  do."  "Well,"  said  the  man  of  learning, 
"that 's  one  great  point  gained." 


40  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [APRIL 

TO    MES.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWOETHSTOWN,  1795. 

My  father  returned  late  on  Friday  night,  bringing 
with  him  a  very  bad  and  a  Very  good  thing;  the  bad 
thing  was  a  bad  cold,  the  good  is  Aunt  Mary  Sneyd. 
Emmeline  was  delayed  some  days  at  Lichfield  by  the 
broken  bridges  and  bad  roads,  floods  and  snows,  which 
have  stopped  man,  and  beast,  and  mail  coaches.  Mr. 
Cox,  the  man  who  sells  camomile  drops  under  the  title 
of  Oriental  Pearls,  wrote  an  apology  to  my  Aunt  Mary 
for  neglecting  to  send  the  Pearls,  in  the  following  elegant 
phrase:  "That  the  mistake  she  mentioned  he  could  no 
ways  account  for  but  by  presuming  that  it  must  have 
arisen  from  impediments  occasioned  by  the  inclemencies 
of  the  season ! " 

When  my  father  went  to  see  Lord  Charlemont,  he 
came  to  meet  him,  saying,  "I  must  claim  relationship 
with  you,  Mr.  Edgeworth.  I  am  related  to  the  Abbe* 
Edgeworth,  who  is,  I  think,  an  honor  to  the  kingdom  — 
I  should  say  to  human  nature." 

TO   THE    SAME. 

EDGEWOKTHSTOWN,  April  11, 1795. 

My  father  and  Lovell  have  been  out  almost  every 
day,  when  there  are  no  robbers  to  be  committed  to  jail, 
at  the  Logograph.1  This  is  the  new  name  instead  of 
the  Telegraph,  because  of  its  allusion  to  the  logographic 
printing  press,  which  prints  words  instead  of  letters. 
Phaenologue  was  thought  of,  but  Logograph  sounds 
better.  My  father  will  allow  me  to  manufacture  an 

1  A  name  invented  to  suit  the  anti-Galilean  prejudices  of  the  day. 


1795]  TO  MBS.   RUXTON  41 

essay  on  the  Logograph,  he  furnishing  the  solid  mate- 
rials and  I  spinning  them.  I  am  now  looking  over,  for 
this  purpose,  Wilkins's  "Real  Character,  or  an  Essay 
towards  a  Universal  Philosophical  Language."  It  is  a 
scarce  and  very  ingenious  book ;  some  of  the  phraseology 
is  so  much  out  of  the  present  fashion  that  it  would 
make  you  smile:  such  as  the  synonym  for  a  little  man, 
a  Dandiprat.  Likewise  two  prints  —  one  of  them  a 
long  sheet  of  men  with  their  throats  cut,  so  as  to  show 
the  windpipe  whilst  working  out  the  different  letters  of 
the  alphabet;  the  other  print  of  all  the  birds  and  beasts 
packed  ready  to  go  into  the  ark. 

Sir  Walter  James  has  written  a  very  kind  and  sensi- 
ble letter  to  my  father,  promising  all  his  influence  with 
his  Viceregal  brother-in-law  about  the  telegraph.  My 
father  means  to  get  a  letter  from  him  to  Lord  Cam- 
den,  and  present  it  himself,  though  he  rather  doubts 
whether,  all  things  taken  together,  it  is  prudent  to  tie  him- 
self to  government.  The  raising  the  militia  has  occa- 
sioned disturbances  in  this  county.  Lord  Granard's  car- 
riage was  pelted  at  Athlone.  The  poor  people  here  are 
robbed  every  night.  Last  night  a  poor  old  woman  was 
considerably  roasted:  the  man,  who  called  himself  Cap- 
tain Boast,  is  committed  to  jail;  he  was  positively  sworn 
to  here  this  morning.  Do  you  know  what  they  mean 
by  the  White  Tooths?  Men  who  stick  two  pieces  of 
broken  tobacco  pipes  at  each  corner  of  the  mouth,  to 
disguise  the  face  and  voice. 

April  20. 

Here  is  a  whirlwind  in  our  county,  and  no  angel  to 
direct  it,  though  many  booted  and  spurred  desire  no 


42  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1795 

better  than  to  ride  in  it.  There  is  indeed  an  old 
woman  in  Ballymahon,  who  has  been  the  guardian  angel 
of  General  Crosby;  she  has  averted  a  terrible  storm, 
which  was  just  ready  to  burst  over  his  head.  The 
General,  by  mistake,  went  into  the  town  of  Ballymahon, 
before  his  troops  came  up;  and  while  he  was  in  the  inn, 
a  mob  of  five  hundred  people  gathered  in  the  street. 
The  landlady  of  the  inn  called  General  Crosby  aside, 
and  told  him  that  if  the  people  found  him  they  would 
certainly  tear  him  to  pieces,  The  General  hesitated, 
but  the  abler  general,  the  landlady,  sallied  forth  and 
called  aloud  in  a  distinct  voice,  "Bring  round  the 
chaise-and-four  for  the  gentleman  from  Lanesborough, 
who  is  going  to  Athlone."  The  General  got  into  the 
chaise  incog.,  and  returning  towards  Athlone  met  his 
troops,  and  thus  effected  a  most  admirable  retreat. 

Monday  Night. 

Richard1  and  Lovell  are  at  the  Bracket  Gate.  I 
hope  you  know  the  Bracket  Gate :  it  is  near  Mr.  Whit- 
ney's, and  so  called,  as  tradition  informs  me,  from  being 
painted  red  and  white  like  a  bracket  cow.  I  am  not 
clear  what  sort  of  an  animal  a  bracket  cow  is,  but  I 
suppose  it  is  something  not  unlike  a  dun  cow  and  a  gate 
joined  together.  Richard  and  Lovell  have  a  nice  tent, 
and  a  clock,  and  white  lights,  and  are  trying  nocturnal 
telegraphs,  which  are  now  brought  to  satisfactory  per- 
fection. 

I  am  finishing  "Toys  and  Tasks;"  I  wish  I  might 
insert  your  letter  to  Sneyd,2  with  the  receipt  for  the 

1  His  last  visit  to  Ireland.    He  returned  to  America,  and  died  there, 
in  1796. 

2  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Edge  worth' 3  second  boy. 


1796]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  43 

dye,  as  a  specimen  of  experiments  for  children.  Sneyd 
with  sparkling  eyes  returns  you  his  sincere  thanks,  and 
my  mother  with  her  love  sends  you  the  following  lines, 
which  she  composed  to-day  for  him :  — 

"  To  give  me  all  that  art  can  give, 

My  aunt  and  mother  try  : 
One  teaches  me  the  way  to  live, 
The  other  how  to  dye." 

But  though  she  makes  epigrams,  my  mother  is  far 
from  well. 

This  year  "Letters  for  Literary  Ladies,"  Miss  Edge- 
worth's  first  published  work,  was  produced  by  Johnson. 
In  1796  she  published  the  collection  of  stories  known  as 
"The  Parent's  Assistant."  In  these,  in  the  simplest 
language,  and  with  wonderful  understanding  of  children 
and  what  would  come  home  to  their  hearts,  she  contin- 
ued to  illustrate  the  maxims  of  her  father.  The  "  Pur- 
ple Jar "  and  "  Lazy  Lawrence "  are  perhaps  the  best 
known  stories  of  the  first  edition.  To  another  was 
added  "  Simple  Susan, "  of  which  Sir  Walter  Scott  said, 
"that  when  the  boy  brings  back  the  lamb  to  the  little 
girl,  there  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  put  down  the  book 
and  cry."  Most  of  these  stories  were  written  in  the 
excitement  of  very  troubled  times  in  Ireland. 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN, 
Saturday  Night,  January,  1796. 

My  father  is  gone  to  a  Longford  committee,  where  he 
will,  I  suppose,  hear  many  dreadful  Defender  stories :  he 
came  home  yesterday  fully  persuaded  that  a  poor  man 


44  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [FEB. 

in  this  neighborhood,  a  Mr.  Houlton,  had  been  mur- 
dered; hut  he  found  he  was  only  kilt,  and  "as  well  as 
could  be  expected,"  after  being  twice  robbed  and  twice 
cut  with  a  bayonet.  You,  my  dear  aunt,  who  were  so 
brave  when  the  county  of  Meath  was  the  seat  of  war, 
must  know  that  we  emulate  your  courage;  and  I  assure 
you  in  your  own  words,  "that  whilst  our  terrified 
neighbors  see  nightly  visions  of  massacres,  we  sleep  with 
our  doors  and  windows  unbarred." 

I  must  observe,  though,  that  it  is  only  those  doors 
and  windows  which  have  neither  bolts  nor  bars  that  we 
leave  unbarred,  and  these  are  more  at  present  than  we 
wish,  even  for  the  reputation  of  our  valor.  All  that  I 
crave  for  my  own  part  is,  that  if  I  am  to  have  my  throat 
cut,  it  may  not  be  by  a  man  with  his  face  blackened 
with  charcoal.  I  shall  look  at  every  person  that  comes 
here  very  closely,  to  see  if  there  be  any  marks  of  char- 
coal upon  their  visages.  Old  wrinkled  offenders  I 
should  suppose  would  never  be  able  to  wash  out  their 
stains;  but  in  others  a  very  clean  face  will  in  my  mind 
be  a  strong  symptom  of  guilt,  clean  hands  proof  posi- 
tive, and  clean  nails  ought  to  hang  a  man. 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    KTJXTON. 

EDGEWOBTHSTOWN,  February  27, 1796/ 
Long   may  you   feel   impatient   to   hear   from  your 
friends,  my  dear  Sophy,  and  long  may  you  express  your 
impatience  as  agreeably.     I  have  a  great  deal  bottled, 
or  rather  bundled  up  for  you.     Though  I  most  earnestly 
wish  that  my  father  was  in  that  situation  J  which  Sir  T. 
Fetherstone  now  graces,  and  though  my  father  had  done 
1  M.  P.  for  the  County  of  Longford. 


1T96]  TO   MISS   SOPHY   RUXTON  45 

me  the  honor  to  let  me  copy  his  election  letters  for 
him,  I  am  not  the  least  infected  with  the  electioneering 
rage.  Whilst  the  election  lasted  we  saw  him  only  a 
few  minutes  in  the  course  of  the  day;  then  indeed  he 
entertained  us  to  our  heart's  content;  now  his  mind 
seems  relieved  from  a  disagreeable  load,  and  we  have 
more  of  his  company. 

You  do  not  mention  Madame  Roland,  therefore  I  am 
not  sure  whether  you  have  read  her;  if  you  have  only 
read  her  in  the  translation  which  talks  of  her  Uncle 
Bimont's  dying  of  a  "fit  of  the  gout  translated  to  his 
chest,"  you  have  done  her  injustice.  We  think  some 
of  her  memoirs  beautifully  written,  and  like  Rousseau: 
she  was  a  great  woman  and  died  heroically,  but  I  don't 
think  she  became  more  amiable,  and  certainly  not  more 
happy  by  meddling  with  politics ;  for  —  her  head  is  cut 
off,  and  her  husband  has  shot  himself.  I  think  if  I  had 
been  Mons.  Eoland  I  should  not  have  shot  myself  for 
her  sake,  and  I  question  whether  he  would  not  have 
left  undrawn  the  trigger  if  he  could  have  seen  all  she 
intended  to  say  of  him  to  posterity:  she  has  painted 
him  as  a  harsh,  stiff,  pedantic  man,  to  whom  she  devoted 
herself  from  a  sense  of  duty;  her  own  superiority,  and 
his  infinite  obligations  to  her,  she  has  taken  sufficient 
pains  to  blazon  forth  to  the  world.  I  do  not  like  all 
this,  and  her  duty  work,  and  her  full-length  portrait  of 
herself  by  herself.  The  foolish  and  haughty  Madame 
De  Boismorrel,  who  sat  upon  the  sofa,  and  asked  her  if 
she  ever  wore  feathers,  was  probably  one  of  the  remote 
causes  of  the  French  Revolution:  for  Madame  Roland's 
republican  spirit  seems  to  have  retained  a  long  and 
lively  remembrance  of  this  aristocratic  visit. 


46  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [FEB. 

As  soon  as  the  blind  bookseller1  can  find  them  for 
us,  we  shall  read  Miss  Williams' s  "Letters."  I  am  glad 
we  both  prefer  the  same  parts  in  Dr.  Aikin's  "Let- 
ters :  "  I  liked  that  on  the  choice  of  a  wife,  but  I  beg  to 
except  the  word  helper,  which  is  used  so  often  and  is 
associated  with  a  helper  in  the  stables.  Lovell  dined 
with  Mr.  Aikin  at  Mr.  Stewart's,  at  Edinburgh,  and 
has  seen  the  Count  d'Artois,  who  he  says  has  rather  a 
silly  face,  especially  when  it  smiles.  Sneyd  is  delighted 
with  the  four  volumes  of  "Evenings  at  Home,"  which 
we  have  just  got,  and  has  pitched  upon  the  best  stories, 
which  he  does  not,  like  M.  Dalambert,  spoil  in  the  read- 
ing—  "Perseverance  against  Fortune,"  "The  Price  of  a 
Victory,"  and  "Capriole."  We  were  reading  an  account 
of  the  pinna  the  other  day,  and  very  much  regretted 
that  your  pinna's  brown  silk  tuft  had  been  eaten  by  the 
mice  —  what  will  they  not  eat  ?  —  they  have  eaten  my 
thimble  case!  I  am  sorry  to  say  that,  from  these  last 
accounts  of  the  pinna  and  his  cancer  friend,  Dr.  Dar- 
win's beautiful  description  is  more  poetic  than  accurate. 
The  cancer  is  neither  watchman  nor  market-woman  to 
the  pinna,  nor  yet  his  friend:  he  has  free  ingress  to 
his  house,  it  is  true,  and  is  often  found  there,  but  he 
does  not  visit  on  equal  terms  or  on  a  friendly  foot- 
ing, for  the  moment  the  pinna  gets  him  in  he  shuts 
the  door  and  eats  him;  or,  if  he  is  not  hungry,  kills 
the  poor  shrimp  and  keeps  him  in  the  house  till  the 
next  day's  dinner.  I  am  sorry  Dr.  Darwin's  story  is 
not  true. 

1  A  peddler  who  travelled  through  the  country,  and  sometimes 
picked  up  at  sales  curious  books  new  and  old. 


1796]  TO  MISS  SOPHY   RUXTON  47 

Saturday  Night. 

I  do  not  know  whether  you  ever  heard  of  a  Mr. 
Pallas,  who  lives  at  Grouse  Hall.  He  lately  received 
information  that  a  certain  Defender  was  to  be  found  in 
a  lone  house,  which  was  described  to  him;  he  took  a 
party  of  men  with  him  in  the  night,  and  got  to  the  house 
very  early  in  the  morning:  it  was  scarcely  light.  The 
soldiers  searched  the  house,  but  no  man  was  to  be  found. 
Mr.  Pallas  ordered  them  to  search  again,  for  that  he  was 
certain  the  man  was  there;  they  searched  again,  in  vain. 
They  gave  up  the  point,  and  were  preparing  to  mount 
their  horses,  when  one  man,  who  had  stayed  a  little 
behind  his  companions,  saw  something  moving  at  the 
end  of  the  garden  behind  the  house;  he  looked  again, 
and  beheld  a  man's  arm  come  out  of  the  ground.  He 
ran  towards  the  spot  and  called  his  companions,  but  the 
arm  had  disappeared;  they  searched,  but  nothing  was 
to  be  seen,  and  though  the  soldier  persisted  in  his  story 
he  was  not  believed.  "Come,"  said  one  of  the  party, 
"don't  waste  your  time  here  looking  for  an  apparition 
among  these  cabbage-stalks;  come  back  once  more  to 
the  house."  They  went  to  the  house,  and  there  stood 
the  man  they  were  in  search  of,  in  the  middle  of  the 
kitchen. 

Upon  examination,  it  was  found  that  a  secret  passage 
had  been  practiced  from  the  kitchen  to  the  garden, 
opening  under  an  old  meal  chest  with  a  false  bottom, 
which  he  could  push  up  and  down  at  pleasure.  He 
had  returned  one  moment  too  soon. 

I  beg,  dear  Sophy,  that  you  will  not  call  my  little 
stories  by  the  sublime  title  of  "  my  works ; "  I  shall  else 
be  ashamed  when  the  little  mouse  comes  forth.  The 


48  MAKIA  EDGEWOETH  [1796 

stories  are  printed  and  bound  the  same  size  as  "Even- 
ings at  Home,"  but  I  am  afraid  you  will  dislike  the 
title;  my  father  had  sent  "The  Parent's  Friend,"1  but 
Mr.  Johnson  has  degraded  it  into  "The  Parent's  Assis- 
tant," which  I  dislike  particularly,  from  association 
with  an  old  book  of  arithmetic  called  "The  Tutor's 
Assistant. " 

This  was  the  first  appearance  of  "The  Parent's 
Assistant,"  in  one  small  volume,  with  the  "Purple 
Jar,"  which  afterwards  formed  part  of  "Rosamond." 

TO    MRS.    BUXTON. 

1796. 

We  heard  from  Lovell 2  last  post.  He  had  reached 
London,  and  waited  immediately  on  Colonel  Brownrigg, 
who  was  extremely  civil,  and  said  he  would  present  him 
any  day  he  pleased  to  the  Duke  of  York.  He  was 
delighted  with  the  telegraphic  prospect  in  his  journey: 
from  Nettlebed  to  Long  Compton,  a  distance  of  fifty 
miles,  he  saw  plainly.  He  was  afraid  that  the  motion 
of  the  stage  would  have  been  too  violent  to  agree  with 
his  model  telegraph  —  "his  pretty,  delicate  little  telly," 
as  Lovell  calls  it.  He  therefore  indulged  her  all  the 
way  with  a  seat  in  a  post-chaise,  "which  I  bestowed 
upon  her  with  pleasure,  because  I  am  convinced  that, 
when  she  comes  to  stand  in  the  world  upon  ground  of 
her  own,  she  will  be  an  honor  to  her  guardian,  her 
parents,  and  her  country." 

1  Mr.  Edgeworth  had  wished  the  book  to  bear  this  title. 

8  Gon«  to  London  with  Mr.  Edgeworth's  telegraphic  invention. 


1797]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  EUXTON  49 

Miss  Edgeworth  now  began  to  write  some  of  the 
stories  which  were  afterwards  published  under  the  title 
of  "Moral  Tales,"  but  which  she  at  first  intended  as  a 
sequel  to  "The  Parent's  Assistant;"  and  she  began  to 
think  of  writing  "Irish  Bulls." 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    BUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  October,  1797. 

I  do  not  like  to  pour  out  the  gratitude  I  feel  for  your 
unremitting  kindness  to  me,  my  dear  Sophy,  in  vain 
thanks;  but  I  may  as  well  pour  it  out  in  words,  as  I 
shall  probably  never  be  able  to  return  the  many  good 
turns  you  have  done  me.  I  am  not  nearly  ready  yet 
for  "Irish  Bulls."  I  am  going  directly  to  "Parent's 
Assistant."  Any  good  anecdotes  from  the  age  of  five 
to  fifteen,  good  latitude  and  longitude,  will  suit  me; 
and  if  you  can  tell  me  any  pleasing  misfortunes  of  emi- 
grants, so  much  the  better.  I  have  a  great  desire  to 
draw  a  picture  of  an  anti- Mademoiselle  Panache,  a  well- 
informed,  well-bred  French  governess,  an  emigrant. 

By  the  blind  bookseller  my  father  will  send  you  some 
books,  and  I  hope  that  we  shall  soon  have  finished 
Godwin,  that  he  may  set  out  for  Black  Castle.  There 
are  some  parts  of  his  book1  that  I  think  you  will  like 
much  —  "On  Frankness"  and  "Self-taught  Genius;" 
but  you  will  find  much  to  blame  in, his  style,  and  you 
will  be  surprised  that  he  should  have  written  a  disserta- 
tion upon  English  style.  I  think  his  essay  on  Avarice 
and  Profusion  will  please  you,  even  after  Smith;  he 
has  gone  a  step  farther.  I  am  going  to  write  a  story 
for  boys,a  which  will,  I  believe,  make  a  volume  to  fol- 
»  Etsays,  by  the  author  of  Caleb  Williami.  2  The,  Good  Aunt. 


50  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [1797 

low  the  "Good  French.  Governess."  My  father  thinks 
a  volume  of  trials  and  a  volume  of  plays  would  be  good 
for  children.  He  met  the  other  day  with  two  men  who 
were  ready  to  go  to  law  about  a  horse  which  one  had 
bought  from  the  other,  because  he  had  one  little  fault. 
"What  is  the  fault?"  said  my  father.  "Sir,  the  horse 
was  standing  with  us  all  the  other  day  in  our  cabin  at 
the  fire,  and  plump  he  fell  down  upon  the  middle  of  the 
fire  and  put  it  out;  and  it  was  a  mercy  he  didn't  kill 
my  wife  and  children,  as  he  fell  into  the  midst  of  them 
all.  But  this  is  not  all,  sir;  he  strayed  into  a  neighbor's 
field  of  oats,  and  fell  down  in  the  midst  of  the  oats, 
and  spoiled  as  much  as  he  could  have  eaten  honestly 
in  a  week.  But  that's  not  all,  sir;  one  day,  please 
your  honor,  I  rode  him  out  in  a  hurry  to  a  fair,  and  he 
lay  down  with  me  in  the  ford,  and  I  lost  my  fair." 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  died  in  November,  1797. 

For  the  last  few  years  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Edgeworth' s 
sisters,  Charlotte  and  Mary  Sneyd,  had  lived  entirely 
at  Edgeworthstown,  not  only  beloved  and  honored  by 
the  children  of  their  two  sisters,  but  tenderly  welcomed 
and  cherished  by  the  children  of  their  predecessors, 
especially  by  Maria,  to  whom  no  real  aunts  could  have 
been  more  dear.  During  the  seventeen  years  through 
which  her  married  life  lasted,  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Edgeworth 
had  become  increasingly  the  centre  of  the  family  circle, 
to  which  she  had  herself  added  five  sons  and  four 
daughters.  In  every  relation  of  life  she  was  admirable. 
Through  the  summer  of  1797  her  health  rapidly  de- 
clined, and  in  November  she  died. 

Mr.  Edgeworth,  then  past  fifty,  had  truly  valued  his 


1798]  TO  MISS   BEAUFORT  51 

third  wife,  of  whom  he  said  that  he  had  "never  seen 
her  out  of  temper,  and  never  received  from  her  an 
unkind  word  or  an  angry  look."  Yet,  when  he  lost 
her,  after  his  peculiar  fashion  he  immediately  began  to 
think  of  marrying  again. 

Dr.  Beaufort,  Vicar  of  Collon,  was  an  agreeable  and 
cultivated  man,  and  had  long  been  a  welcome  guest  at 
Mrs.  Euxton's  house  of  Black  Castle.  His  eldest 
daughter,  who  was  a  clever  artist,  had  designed  and 
drawn  some  illustrations  for  Maria  Edge  worth's  stories. 
With  these  Mr.  Edgeworth  found  fault,  and  the  good- 
humor  and  sense  with  which  his  criticisms  were  received 
charmed  him,  and  led  to  an  intimacy.  Six  months 
after  his  wife's  death  he  married  Miss  Beaufort. 

It  may  sound  strange,  but  it  is  nevertheless  true, 
that  in  Miss  Beaufort,  even  more  than  in  her  predeces- 
sors, he  gave  to  his  children  a  wise  and  kind  mother, 
and  a  most  entirely  devoted  friend. 

TO    MISS    BEAUFORT. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  May  16, 1798. 

Whilst  you,  my  dear  Miss  Beaufort,  have  been  toil- 
ing in  Dublin,  my  father  has  been  delighting  himself 
in  preparations  for  June.  The  little  boudoir  looks  as  if 
it  intends  to  be  pretty.  This  is  the  only  room  hi  the 
house  which  my  father  will  allow  to  be  finished,  as  he 
wishes  that  your  taste  should  finish  the  rest.  Like  the 
man  who  begged  to  have  the  eclipse  put  off,  we  have 
been  here  praying  to  have  the  spring  put  off,  as  this 
place  never  looks  so  pretty  as  when  the  lilacs  and  labur- 
nums are  in  full  flower.  I  fear,  notwithstanding  all 
our  prayers,  that  their  purple  and  yellow  honors  will  be 


52  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAY 

gone  before  your  arrival.  There  is  one  other  flower 
which  I  am  sure  will  not  be  in  blow  for  you,  "a  little 
western  flower  called  love  in  idleness."  Amongst  the 
many  kindnesses  my  father  has  shown  me,  the  greatest, 
I  think,  has  been  his  permitting  me  to  see  his  heart  a 
decouverte ;  and  I  have  seen,  by  your  kind  sincerity 
and  his,  that,  in  good  and  cultivated  minds,  love  is  no 
idle  passion,  but  one  that  inspires  useful  and  generous 
energy.  I  have  been  convinced  by  your  example  of 
what  I  was  always  inclined  to  believe,  that  the  power 
of  feeling  affection  is  increased  by  the  cultivation  of  the 
understanding.  The  wife  of  an  Indian  yogii  (if  a  yogii 
be  permitted  to  have  a  wife)  might  be  a  very  affection- 
ate woman,  but  her  sympathy  with  her  husband  could 
not  have  a  very  extensive  sphere.  As  his  eyes  are  to 
be  continually  fixed  upon  the  point  of  his  nose,  hers 
in  duteous  sympathy  must  squint  in  like  manner;  and 
if  the  perfection  of  his  virtue  be  to  sit  so  still  that  the 
birds  (vide  Sacontala)  may  unmolested  build  nests  in 
his  hair,  his  wife  cannot  better  show  her  affection  than 
by  yielding  her  tresses  to  them  with  similar  patient  stu- 
pidity. Are  there  not  European  yogiis,  or  men  whose 
ideas  do  not  go  much  further  than  le  bout  du  nez? 
And  how  delightful  it  must  be  to  be  chained  for  better 
for  worse  to  one  of  this  species!  I  should  guess  —  for 
I  know  nothing  of  the  matter  —  that  the  courtship  of 
an  ignorant  lover  must  be  almost  as  insipid  as  a  marriage 
with  him;  for  "my  jewel"  continually  repeated,  with- 
out new  setting,  must  surely  fatigue  a  little. 

You  call  yourself,  dear  Miss  Beaufort,  my  friend  and 
companion;  I  hope  you  will  never  have  reason  to  repent 
beginning  in  this  style  towards  me.  I  think  you  will 


1798]  TO  MISS   BEAUFORT  53 

not  find  me  encroach  upon  you.  The  overflowings  of 
your  kindness,  if  I  know  anything  of  my  own  heart, 
will  fertilize  the  land,  but  will  not  destroy  the  land- 
marks. I  do  not  know  whether  I  most  hate  or  despise 
the  temper  which  will  take  an  ell  where  an  inch  is 
given.  A  well-bred  person  never  forgets  that  species 
of  respect  which  is  due  to  situation  and  rank:  though 
his  superiors  in  rank  treat  him  with  the  utmost  conde- 
scension, he  never  is  "Hail  'fellow  well  met"  with 
them;  he  never  calls  them  Jack  or  Tom  by  way  of 
increasing  his  own  consequence. 

I  flatter  myself  that  you  will  find  me  gratefully  exact 
en  belle  fille.  I  think  there  is  a  great  deal  of  difference 
between  that  species  of  ceremony  which  exists  with 
acquaintance,  and  that  which  should  always  exist  with 
the  best  of  friends:  the  one  prevents  the  growth  of 
affection,  the  other  preserves  it  in  youth  and  age.  Many 
foolish  people  make  fine  plantations,  and  forget  to  fence 
them;  so  the  young  trees  are  destroyed  by  the  young 
cattle,  and  the  bark  of  the  forest  trees  is  sometimes 
injured.  You  need  not,  dear  Miss  Beaufort,  fence 
yourself  round  with  very  strong  palings  in  this  family, 
where  all  have  been  early  accustomed  to  mind  their 
boundaries.  As  for  me,  you  see  my  intentions,  or  at 
least  my  theories,  are  good  enough;  if  my  practice  be 
but  half  as  good,  you  will  be  content,  will  you  not? 
But  Theory  was  born  in  Brobdignag,  and  Practice  in 
Lilliput.  So  much  the  better  for  me.  I  have  often 
considered,  since  my  return  home,  as  I  have  seen  all 
this  family  pursuing  their  several  occupations  and 
amusements,  how  much  you  will  have  it  in  your  power 
to  add  to  their  happiness.  In  a  stupid  or  indolent 


54  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAT 

family,  your  knowledge  and  talents  would  be  thrown 
away;  here,  if  it  may  be  said  without  vanity,  they  will 
be  the  certain  source  of  your  daily  happiness.  You 
will  come  into  a  new  family,  but  you  will  not  come  as 
a  stranger,  dear  Miss  Beaufort:  you  will  not  lead  a  new 
life,  but  only  continue  to  lead  the  life  you  have  been 
used  to  in  your  own  happy,  cultivated  family. 

Mr.  Edge  worth  and  Miss  Beaufort  were  married  31st 
May,  1798,  at  St.  Anne's  Church  in  Dublin.  Mrs. 
Edgeworth  writes :  — 

We  set  off  from  the  church  door  for  Edgeworthstown, 
and  the  rebellion  had  broken  out  in  many  parts  of  Ire- 
land. 

Soon  after  we  had  passed  the  second  stage  from  Dub- 
lin, one  of  the  carriage  wheels  broke  down.  Mr.  Edge- 
worth  went  back  to  the  inn,  then  called  the  Nineteen- 
mile  House,1  to  get  assistance.  Very  few  people  were 
to  be  found,  and  a  woman  who  was  alone  in  the  kitchen 
came  up  to  him  and  whispered,  "The  boys  [the  rebels] 
are  hid  in  the  potato  furrows  beyond."  He  was  rather 
startled  at  this  intelligence,  but  took  no  notice.  He 
found  an  ostler  who  lent  him  a  wheel,  which  they  man- 
aged to  put  on,  and  we  drove  off  without  being  stopped 
by  any  of  the  boys.  A  little  farther  on  I  saw  some- 
thing very  odd  on  the  side  of  the  road  before  us. 
"What  is  that?"  "Look  to  the  other  side  — don't 
look  at  it ! "  cried  Mr.  Edgeworth ;  and  when  we  had 
passed  he  said  it  was  a  car  turned  up,  between  the 
shafts  of  which  a  man  was  hung  —  murdered  by  the 
rebels. 

l  Now  Enfield ;  a  railway  station. 


1798]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  55 

We  reached  Edgeworthstown  late  in  the  evening. 
The  family  at  that  time  consisted  of  the  two  Miss 
Sneyds,  Maria,  Emmeline,  Bessy,  Charlotte  (Lovell  was 
then  at  Edinburgh),  Henry,  Sneyd,  Honora,  and  Wil- 
liam. Sneyd  was  not  twelve  years  old,  and  the  other 
two  were  much  younger.  All  agreed  in  making  me  feel 
at  once  at  home,  and  part  of  the  family;  all  received 
me  with  the  most  unaffected  cordiality,  hut  from  Maria 
it  was  something  more.  She  more  than  fulfilled  the 
promise  of  her  letter;  she  made  me  at  once  her  most 
intimate  friend;  and  in  all  the  serious  concerns  of  life, 
and  in  every  trifle  of  the  day,  treated  me  with  the  most 
generous  confidence. 

MARIA   TO    MISS    SOPHY   RUXTON    IN    NORTH   WALES. 
EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  June  20, 1798. 

Hitherto  all  has  been  quiet  in  our  county,  and  we 
know  nothing  of  the  dreadful  disturbances  in  other 
parts  of  the  country  but  what  we  see  in  the  newspapers. 
I  am  sorry  my  uncle  and  Eichard  were  obliged  to  leave 
you  and  my  dear  aunt,  as  I  know  the  continual  state  of 
suspense  and  anxiety  in  which  you  must  live  while  they 
are  away.  I  fear  that  we  may  soon  know  by  experience 
what  you  feel,  for  my  father  sees  in  to-night's  paper 
that  Lord  Cornwallis  is  coming  over  here  as  Lord- Lieu- 
tenant; and  he  thinks  it  will  be  his  duty  to  offer  his 
services  in  any  manner  in  which  they  can  be  advan- 
tageous. Why  cannot  we  be  left  in  peace  to  enjoy  our 
happiness?  that  is  all  we  have  the  conscience  to  ask! 
We  are  indeed  happy :  the  more  I  see  of  my  friend  and 
mother,  the  more  I  love  and  esteem  her,  and  the  more 
I  feel  the  truth  of  all  that  I  have  heard  you  say  in  her 


56  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [Aco. 

praise.  I  do  not  think  I  am  much  prejudiced  by  her 
partiality  for  me,  though  I  do  feel  most  grateful  for 
her  kindness.  I  never  saw  my  father  at  any  period  of 
his  life  appear  so  happy  as  he  does,  and  has  done  for 
this  month  past ;  and  you  know  that  he  tastes  happiness 
as  much  as  any  human  being  can.  He  is  not  of  the 
number  of  those  qui  avalent  leurs  plaisirs,  il  salt  les 
gouter.  So  little  change  has  been  made  in  the  way  of 
living,  that  you  would  feel  as  if  you  were  going  on  with 
your  usual  occupations  and  conversation  amongst  us. 
We  laugh  and  talk,  and  enjoy  the  good  of  every  day, 
which  is  more  than  sufficient.  How  long  this  may  last 
we  cannot  tell.  I  am  going  on  in  the  old  way,  writing 
stories.  I  cannot  be  a  captain  of  dragoons,  and  sitting 
with  my  hands  before  me  would  not  make  any  of  us 
one  degree  safer.  I  know  nothing  more  of  "Practical 
Education ; "  it  is  advertised  to  be  published.  I  have 
finished  a  volume  of  wee- wee  stories,  about  the  size  of 
the  "Purple  Jar,"  all  about  Rosamond.  "Simple 
Susan  "  went  to  Foxhall  a  few  days  ago,  for  Lady  Anne 
to  carry  to  England. 

My  father  has  made  our  little  rooms  so  nice  for  us ; 
they  are  all  fresh  painted  and  papered.  Oh,  rebels! 
oh,  French!  spare  them!  We  have  never  injured  you, 
and  all  we  wish  is  to  see  everybody  as  happy  as  our- 
selves. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  August  29, 1798. 

We  have  this  moment  learned  from  the  sheriff  of  this 
county,  Mr.  Wilder,  who  has  been  at  Athlone,  that  the 
French  have  got  to  Castlebar.  They  changed  clothes 
with  some  peasants,  and  so  deceived  our  troops.  They 


1798]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  57 

have  almost  entirely  cut  off  the  carbineers,  the  Longford 
militia,  and  a  large  body  of  yeomanry  who  opposed 
them.  The  Lord-Lieutenant  is  now  at  Athlone,  and  it 
is  supposed  that  it  will  be  their  next  object  of  attack. 
My  father's  corps  of  yeomanry  are  extremely  attached 
to  him,  and  seem  fully  in  earnest;  but,  alas!  by  some 
strange  negligence  their  arms  have  not  yet  arrived  from 
Dublin.  My  father  this  morning  sent  a  letter  by  an 
officer  going  to  Athlone,  to  Lord  Cornwallis,  offering 
his  services  to  convey  intelligence  or  reconnoitre,  as  he 
feels  himself  in  a  most  terrible  situation,  without  arms 
for  his  men,  and  no  power  of  being  serviceable  to  his 
country.  We  who  are  so  near  the  scene  of  action  can- 
not by  any  means  discover  what  number  of  the  French 
actually  landed;  some  say  800,  some  1800,  some  18,000, 
some  4000.  The  troops  march  and  countermarch,  as 
they  say  themselves,  without  knowing  where  they  are 
going,  or  for  what. 

Poor  Lady  Anne  Fox ! 1  she  is  in  a  dreadful  situation ; 
so  near  her  confinement  she  is  unable  to  move  from 
Foxhall  to  any  place  of  greater  safety,  and  exposed 
every  moment  to  hear  the  most  alarming  reports.  She 
shows  admirable  calmness  and  strength  of  mind.  Fran- 
cis and  Barry2  set  out  to-morrow  morning  for  Eng- 
land; as  they  do  not  go  near  Conway,  my  father  ad- 
vises me  not  to  send  by  them  "Simple  Susan"  and 
sundry  other  little  volumes  which  I  wish  were  in  your 
kind  hands. 

God  send  the  French  may  soon  go,  and  that  you  may 
soon  come. 

l  Wife  of  Mrs.  Edgeworth's  nephew. 
3  Brothers  of  the  fourth  Mrs.  Edgeworth. 


58  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [SEPT. 


TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

MRS.  FALLON'S  INN,  LONGFORD, 
September  5, 1798. 

We  are  all  safe  and  well,  my  dearest  aunt,  and  have 
had  two  most  fortunate  escapes  from  rebels  and  from 
the  explosion  of  an  ammunition  cart.  Yesterday  we 
heard,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  that  a  large 
body  of  rebels,  armed  with  pikes,  were  within  a  few 
miles  of  Edgeworthstown.  My  father's  yeomanry  were 
at  this  moment  gone  to  Longford  for  their  arms,  which 
Government  had  delayed  sending.  We  were  ordered 
to  decamp,  each  with  a  small  bundle;  the  two  chaises 
full,  and  my  mother  and  Aunt  Charlotte  on  horseback. 
We  were  all  ready  to  move,  when  the  report  was  con- 
tradicted: only  twenty  or  thirty  men  were  now,  it  was 
said,  in  arms,  and  my  father  hoped  we  might  still  hold 
fast  to  our  dear  home. 

Two  officers  and  six  dragoons  happened  at  this  mo- 
ment to  be  on  their  way  through  Edgeworthstown, 
escorting  an  ammunition  cart  from  Mullingar  to  Long- 
ford; they  promised  to  take  us  under  their  protection, 
and  the  officer  came  up  to  the  door  to  say  he  was  ready. 
My  father  most  fortunately  detained  us;  they  set  out 
without  us.  Half  an  hour  afterwards,  as  we  were 
quietly  sitting  in  the  portico,  we  heard  —  as  we  thought 
close  to  us  —  a  clap  of  thunder  which  shook  the  house. 
The  officer  soon  afterwards  returned,  almost  speechless; 
he  could  hardly  explain  what  had  happened.  The 
ammunition  cart,  containing  nearly  three  barrels  of  gun- 
powder, packed  in  tin  cases,  took  fire  and  burst,  half- 
way on  the  road  to  Longford.  The  man  who  drove  the 


1798]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  59 

cart  was  blown  to  atoms  —  nothing  of  him  could  be 
found;  two  of  the  horses  were  killed,  others  were  blown 
to  pieces  and  their  limbs  scattered  to  a  distance;  the 
head  and  body  of  a  man  were  found  a  hundred  and 
twenty  yards  from  the  spot.  Mr.  Murray  was  the  name 
of  the  officer  I  am  speaking  of:  he  had  with  him  a  Mr. 
Rochfort  and  a  Mr.  Nugent.  Mr.  Rochfort  was  thrown 
from  his  horse,  one  side  of  his  face  terribly  burnt,  and 
stuck  over  with  gunpowder.  He  was  carried  into  a 
cabin;  they  thought  he  would  die,  but  they  now  say  he 
will  recover.  The  carriage  has  been  sent  to  take  him 
to  Longford.  I  have  not  time  or  room,  my  dear  aunt, 
to  dilate  or  tell  you  half  I  have  to  say.  If  we  had 
gone  with  this  ammunition,  we  must  have  been  killed. 

An  hour  or  two  afterwards,  however,  we  were  obliged 
to  fly  from  Edgeworthstown.  The  pikemen,  three  hun- 
dred in  number,  actually  were  within  a  mile  of  the 
town.  My  mother,  Aunt  Charlotte,  and  I  rode ;  passed 
the  trunk  of  the  dead  man,  bloody  limbs  of  horses,  and 
two  dead  horses,  by  the  help  of  men  who  pulled  on  our 
steeds:  we  are  all  safely  lodged  now  in  Mrs.  Fallon's 
inn. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  narrates :  — 

Before  we  had  reached  the  place  where  the  cart  had 
been  blown  up,  Mr.  Edgeworth  suddenly  recollected 
that  he  had  left  on  the  table  in  his  study  a  list  of  the 
yeomanry  corps,  which  he  feared  might  endanger  the 
poor  fellows  and  their  families  if  it  fell  into  the  hands 
of  the  rebels.  He  galloped  back  for  it  —  it  was  at  the 
hazard  of  his  life  —  but  the  rebels  had  not  yet  appeared. 
He  burned  the  paper,  and  rejoined  us  safely. 


60  MAEIA  EDGEWOKTH  [1798 

The  landlady  of  the  inn  at  Longford  did  all  she  could 
to  make  us  comfortable,  and  we  were  squeezed  into  the 
already  crowded  house.  Mrs.  Billamore,  our  excellent 
housekeeper,  we  had  left  behind  for  the  return  of  the 
carriage  which  had  taken  Mr.  Kochfort  to  Longford; 
but  it  was  detained,  and  she  did  not  reach  us  till  the 
next  morning,  when  we  learned  from  her  that  the  rebels 
had  not  come  up  to  the  house.  They  had  halted  at  the 
gate,  but  were  prevented  from  entering  by  a  man  whom 
she  did  not  remember  to  have  ever  seen;  but  he  was 
grateful  to  her  for  having  lent  money  to  his  wife  when 
she  was  in  great  distress,  and  we  now,  at  our  utmost 
need,  owed  our  safety  and  that  of  the  house  to  his  grati- 
tude. We  were  surprised  to  find  that  this  was  thought 
by  some  to  be  a  suspicious  circumstance,  and  that  it 
showed  Mr.  Edge  worth  to  be  a  favorer  of  the  rebels! 
An  express  arrived  at  night  to  say  the  French  were 
close  to  Longford :  Mr.  Edgeworth  undertook  to  defend 
the  jail,  which  commanded  the  road  by  which  the 
enemy  must  pass,  where  they  could  be  detained  till  the 
King's  troops  came  up.  He  was  supplied  with  men 
and  ammunition,  and  watched  all  night;  but  in  the 
morning  news  came  that  the  French  had  turned  in  a 
different  direction,  and  gone  to  Granard,  about  seven 
miles  off;  but  this  seemed  so  unlikely,  that  Mr.  Edge- 
worth  rode  out  to  reconnoitre,  and  Henry  went  to  the 
top  of  the  Court  House  to  look  out  with  a  telescope. 
We  were  all  at  the  windows  of  a  room  in  the  inn  look- 
ing into  the  street,  when  we  saw  people  running,  throw- 
ing up  their  hats  and  huzzaing.  A  dragoon  had  just 
arrived  with  the  news  that  General  Lake's  army  had 
come  up  with  the  French  and  the  rebels,  and  completely 


1798]  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  61 

defeated  them  at  a  place  called  Ballinamuck,  near  Gra- 
nard.  But  we  soon  saw  a  man  in  a  sergeant's  uniform 
haranguing  the  mob,  not  in  honor  of  General  Lake's 
victory,  but  against  Mr.  Edgeworth;  we  distinctly  heard 
the  words,  "  that  young  Edgeworth  ought  to  be  dragged 
down  from  the  Court  House."  The  landlady  was  terri- 
fied; she  said  Mr.  Edgeworth  was  accused  of  having 
made  signals  to  the  French  from  the  jail,  and  she 
thought  the  mob  would  pull  down  her  house;  but  they 
ran  on  to  the  end  of  the  town,  where  they  expected  to 
meet  Mr.  Edgeworth.  We  sent  a  messenger  in  one 
direction  to  warn  him,  while  Maria  and  I  drove  to  meet 
him  on  the  other  road.  We  heard  that  he  had  passed 
some  time  before  with  Major  Eustace;  the  mob  seeing 
an  officer  in  uniform  with  him  went  back  to  the  town, 
and  on  our  return  we  found  them  safe  at  the  inn.  We 
saw  the  French  prisoners  brought  in  in  the  evening, 
when  Mr.  Edgeworth  went  after  dinner  with  Major 
Eustace  to  the  barrack.  Some  time  after,  dreadful  yells 
were  heard  in  the  street:  the  mob  had  attacked  them  on 
their  return  from  the  barrack  —  Major  Eustace  being 
now  in  colored  clothes,  they  did  not  recognize  him  as  an 
officer.  They  had  struck  Mr.  Edgeworth  with  a  brick- 
bat in  the  neck,  and  as  they  were  now,  just  in  front  of 
the  inn,  collaring  the  major,  Mr.  Edgeworth  cried  out 
in  a  loud  voice,  "Major  Eustace  is  in  danger."  Several 
officers  who  were  at  dinner  in  the  inn,  hearing  the 
words  through  the  open  window,  rushed  out  sword  in 
hand,  dispersed  the  crowd  in  a  moment,  and  all  the 
danger  was  over.  The  military  patrolled  the  streets, 
and  the  sergeant  who  had  made  all  this  disturbance  was 
put  under  arrest.  He  was  a  poor,  half-crazed  fanatic. 


62  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [SEPT. 

The  next  day,  the  9th  of  September,  we  returned 
home,  where  everything  was  exactly  as  we  had  left  it, 
all  serene  and  happy,  five  days  before  —  only  five  days, 
which  seemed  almost  a  lifetime,  from  the  dangers  and 
anxiety  we  had  gone  through. 

MAKIA    TO    MISS    SOPHY    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  September  9, 1798. 

You  will  rejoice,  I  am  sure,  my  dear  Sophy,  to  see 
by  the  date  of  this  letter  that  we  are  safe  back  at  Edge- 
worthstown.  The  scenes  we  have  gone  through  for 
some  days  past  have  succeeded  one  another  like  the 
pictures  in  a  magic-lantern,  and  have  scarcely  left  the 
impression  of  reality  upon  the  mind.  It  all  seems  like 
a  dream,  a  mixture  of  the  ridiculous  and  the  horrid. 
"  Oh  ho ! "  says  my  aunt,  "  things  cannot  be  very  bad 
with  my  brother,  if  Maria  begins  her  letters  with  magic- 
lantern  and  reflections  on  dreams." 

When  we  got  into  the  town  this  morning  we  saw  the 
picture  of  a  deserted,  or  rather  a  shattered  village  — 
many  joyful  faces  greeted  us  at  the  doors  of  the  houses  — 
none  of  the  windows  of  the  new  houses  in  Charlotte 
Row  were  broken:  the  mob  declared  they  would  not 
meddle  with  them  because  they  were  built  by  the  two 
good  ladies,  meaning  my  aunts. 

Last  night  my  father  was  alarmed  at  finding  that 
both  Samuel  and  John,1  who  had  stood  by  him  with 
the  utmost  fidelity  through  the  Longford  business,  were 
at  length  panic-struck;  they  wished  now  to  leave  him. 
Samuel  said:  "Sir,  I  would  stay  with  you  to  the  last 

1  John  Jenkins,  a  Welsh  lad;  both  he  and  Samuel  thought  better 
of  it  and  remained  in  the  service. 


1798J  TO  MISS   SOPHY  KUXTON  63 

gasp,  if  you  were  not  so  foolhardy,"  and  here  he  cried 
bitterly;  "but,  sir,  indeed  you  have  not  heard  all  I 
have  heard.  I  have  heard  about  two  hundred  men  in 
Longford  swear  they  would  have  your  life."  All  the 
town  were  during  the  whole  of  last  night  under  a  simi- 
lar panic,  they  were  certain  the  violent  Longford  yeo- 
men would  come  and  cut  them  to  pieces.  Last  night 
was  not  pleasant,  but  this  morning  was  pleasant  —  and 
why  it  was  a  pleasant  morning  I  will  tell  you  in  my 
next. 

September  19. 

I  forgot  to  tell  you  of  a  remarkable  event  in  the  his- 
tory of  our  return;  all  the  cats,  even  those  who  prop- 
erly belong  to  the  stable,  and  who  had  never  been 
admitted  to  the  honors  of  the  sitting  in  the  kitchen,  all 
crowded  round  Kitty  with  congratulatory  faces,  crawl- 
ing up  her  gown,  insisting  upon  caressing  and  being 
caressed  when  she  reappeared  in  the  lower  regions.  Mr. 
Gilpin's  slander  against  cats  as  selfish,  unfeeling  animals 
is  thus  refuted  by  stubborn  facts. 

When  Colonel  Handfield  told  the  whole  story  of  the 
Longford  mob  to  Lord  Cornwallis,  he  said  he  never  saw 
a  man  so  much  astonished.  Lord  Longford,  Mr.  Paken- 
ham,  and  Major  Edward  Pakenham  have  shown  much 
warmth  of  friendship  upon  this  occasion. 

Inclosed  I  send  you  a  little  sketch,  which  I  traced 
from  one  my  mother  drew  for  her  father,  of  the  situa- 
tion of  the  field  of  battle  at  Ballinamuck.  It  is  about 
four  miles  from  The  Hills.  My  father,  mother,  and  I 
rode  to  look  at  the  camp;  perhaps  you  recollect  a  pretty 
turn  in  the  road,  where  there  is  a  little  stream  with  a 


64  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Ocx. 

three-arched  bridge:  in  the  fields  which  rise  in  a  gentle 
slope,  on  the  right-hand  side  of  this  stream,  about  sixty 
bell  tents  were  pitched,  the  arms  all  ranged  on  the 
grass;  before  the  tents,  poles  with  little  streamers  flying 
here  and  there;  groups  of  men  leading  their  horses  to 
water,  others  filling  kettles  and  back  pots,  some  cooking 
under  the  hedges;  the  various  uniforms  looked  pretty; 
Highlanders  gathering  blackberries.  My  father  took  us 
to  the  tent  of  Lord  Henry  Seymour,  who  is  an  old 
friend  of  his;  he  breakfasted  here  to-day,  and  his  plain 
English  civility,  and  quiet  good  sense,  was  a  fine  con- 
trast to  the  mob,  etc.  Dapple,1  your  old  acquaintance, 
did  not  like  all  the  sights  at  the  camp  as  well  as  I  did. 

October  3, 1798. 

My  father  went  to  Dublin  the  day  before  yesterday, 
to  see  Lord  Cornwallis  about  the  Court  of  Inquiry  on 
the  sergeant  who  harangued  the  mob.  About  one 
o'clock  to-day  Lovell  returned  from  the  Assizes  at 
Longford  with  the  news,  met  on  the  road,  that  expresses 
had  come  an  hour  before  from  Granard  to  Longford,  for 
the  Reay  Fencibles,  and  all  the  troops;  that  there  was 
another  rising  and  an  attack  upon  Granard:  four  thou- 
sand men  the  first  report  said,  seven  hundred  the  sec- 
ond. What  the  truth  may  be  it  is  impossible  to  tell;  it 
is  certain  that  the  troops  are  gone  to  Granard,  and  it  is 
yet  more  certain  that  all  the  windows  in  this  house  are 
built  halfway  up,  guns  and  bayonets  dispersed  by  Cap- 
tain Lovell  in  every  room.  The  yeomanry  corps  paraded 
to-day,  all  steady :  guard  sitting  up  in  house  and  in  the 
town  to-night. 

1  Maria  Edge-worth's  horse. 


1798]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  65 

Thursday  Morning. 

All  alive  and  well.  A  letter  from  my  father:  he 
stays  to  see  Lord  Cornwallis  on  Friday.  Deficient  arms 
for  the  corps  are  given  by  Lord  Castlereagh. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  writes :  — 

The  sergeant  was  to  have  been  tried  at  the  next  ses- 
sions, but  he  was  by  this  time  ashamed  and  penitent, 
and  Mr.  Edgeworth  did  not  press  the  trial,  but  knowing 
the  man  was,  among  his  other  weaknesses,  very  much 
afraid  of  ghosts,  he  said  to  him  as  he  came  out  of  the 
Court  House,  "I  believe,  after  all,  you  had  rather  see 
me  alive  than  have  my  ghost  haunting  you ! " 

In  1798  "  Practical  Education  "  was  published  in  two 
large  octavo  volumes,  bearing  the  joint  names  of  Rich- 
ard and  Maria  Edgeworth  upon  their  title-page.  This 
was  the  first  work  of  that  literary  partnership  of  father 
and  daughter  which  Maria  Edgeworth  describes  as  "the 
joy  and  pride  of  my  life." 

MARIA    TO    MISS    SOPHY    RUXTON. 

EDGEWOHTHSTOWN,  November  19, 1798. 
You  have,  I  suppose,  or  are  conscious  that  you  ought 
to  have,  whitlows  upon  your  thumb  and  all  your  four 
fingers  for  not  writing  to  me !  Tell  me  what  you  are 
saying  and  doing,  and  above  all  where  you  are  going. 
My  father  has  taken  me  into  a  new  partnership  —  we 
are  writing  a  comedy;  will  you  come  and  see  it  acted? 
He  is  making  a  charming  theatre  in  the  room  over  his 
study :  it  will  be  twice  as  large  as  old  Poz's  little  theatre 


66  MARIA  EDGEWOETH  [1T98 

in  the  dining-room.  My  aunt's  woolen  wig  for  old 
Poz  is  in  high  estimation  in  the  memory  of  man, 
woman,  and  child  here.  I  give  you  the  play-bill :  — 

Mrs.  Fangle  (a  rich  and  whimsical  widow)  .        Emmeline. 

Caroline  (a  sprightly  heiress) Charlotte. 

Jemima  (Mrs.  Fangle's  waiting-maid)  .     .        Bessy. 

Sir  Mordant  Idem  (in  love  with  Mrs.  Fangle, 

and  elderly,  and  hating  anything  new)         Henry. 

Opal  (nephew  to  Sir  Mordant,  and  hating 
everything  old,  in  love  with  Caroline, 
and  wild  for  illuminatism)  ....  Sneyd. 

Count  Babelhausen  (a  German  illuminatus, 
trying  to  marry  either  Mrs.  Fangle  or 
Caroline) Lovell. 

Heliodorus  and  Christina   (Mrs.  Fangle's )      William 
children,  on  whom  she  tries  strange  >•          and 
experiments) )      Honora. 

To  explain  illuminatism  I  refer  you  to  Robinson's 
book  called  "Proofs  of  a  Conspiracy."  It  was  from 
this  book,  which  gives  a  history  of  the  cheats  of  Free- 
masonry and  Illuminatism,  that  we  took  the  idea  of 
Count  Babelhausen.  The  book  is  tiresome,  and  no 
sufficient  proofs  given  of  the  facts,  but  parts  of  it  will 
probably  interest  you. 

Lovell  has  bought  a  fine  apparatus  and  materials  for 
a  course  of  chemical  lectures  which  he  is  going  to  give 
us.  The  study  is  to  be  the  laboratory;  I  wish  you 
were  in  it. 

In  the  "  Monthly  Review "  for  October  there  is  this 
anecdote.  After  the  King  of  Denmark,  who  was  some- 
what silly,  had  left  Paris,  a  Frenchman,  who  was  in 
company  with  the  Danish  Ambassador,  but  did  not 
know  him,  began  to  ridicule  the  King.  "  Ma  foi !  il  a 


1799]  TO  MISS   CHARLOTTE   SNEYD  67 

une  t§te!  une  tete  —  "  "  Couronnde, "  replied  the  Am- 
bassador, with  presence  of  mind  and  politeness.  My 
father,  who  was  much  delighted  with  this  answer,  asked 
Lovell,  Henry,  and  Sneyd,  without  telling  the  right 
answer,  what  they  would  have  said. 

Lovell:  "A  head  —  and  a  heart,  sir." 
Henry:   "A  head  —  upon  his  shoulders." 
Sneyd:  "  A  head  —  of  a  King. " 

Tell  me  which  answer  you  like  best.  Richard  will 
take  your  "Practical  Education"  to  you. 

The  play  mentioned  in  the  foregoing  letter  was  twice 
acted  in  January,  1799,  with  great  applause,  under  the 
title  of  "Whim  for  Whim."  Mr.  Edgeworth's  mech- 
anism for  the  scenery,  and  for  the  experiments  tried  on 
the  children,  were  most  ingenious.  Mrs.  Edgeworth 
painted  the  scenery  and  arranged  the  dresses. 

The  day  after  the  last  performance  of  "Whim  for 
Whim,"  the  family  went  to  Dublin  for  Mr.  Edgeworth 
to  attend  Parliament,  the  last  Irish  Parliament,  he  hav- 
ing been  returned  for  the  borough  of  St.  John's  Town, 
in  the  County  of  Longford,  and  in  the  spring  Mrs. 
Edgeworth  and  Maria  accompanied  him  to  England. 

TO    MISS    CHARLOTTE    SNEYD. 

DUBLIN,  April  2, 1799. 

In  the  paper  of  to-night  you  will  see  my  father's 
farewell  speech  on  the  Education  Bill. 

Some  time  ago,  amongst  some  hints  to  the  Chairman 
of  the  Committee  of  Education,  you  sent  one  which  I 
have  pursued:  you  said  that  the  early  lessons  for  the 


68  MAKIA  EDGEWOETH  [MAY 

poor  should  speak  with  detestation  of  the  spirit  of 
revenge:  I  have  just  finished  a  little  story  called  "For- 
give and  Forget,"  upon  this  idea.  I  am  now  writing 
one  on  a  subject  recommended  to  me  by  Dr.  Beaufort, 
on  the  evils  of  procrastination;  the  title  of  it  is  "By 
and  Bye. " 1  I  am  very  much  obliged  to  Bessy  and 
Charlotte  for  copying  the  Errata  of  "Practical  Educa- 
tion "  for  me,  and  should  be  extremely  obliged  to  the 
whole  Committee  of  Education  and  Criticism  at  Edge- 
worthstown,  if  they  would  send  corrections  to  me  from 
their  own  brains;  the  same  eye  (if  I  may  judge  by  my 
own)  can  only  see  the  same  things  in  looking  over  the 
book  twenty  times.  Tell  Sneyd  that  there  is  a  political 
print  just  come  out,  of  a  woman,  meant  for  Hibernia, 
dressed  in  orange  and  green,  and  holding  a  pistol  in  her 
hand  to  oppose  the  Union. 

MKS.   EDGEWOBTH    TO    MRS.    EUXTON. 

RICHMOND  PLACE,  CLIFTON,  May  26,  1799. 

We  are  very  well  settled  here,  and  this  house  is  quite 
retired  and  quite  quiet.  The  prospects  are  very  beauti- 
ful, and  we  have  charming  green  fields  in  which  we 
walk,  and  in  which  dear  Sophy  could  botanize  at  her 
ease. 

A  young  man,  a  Mr.  Davy,2  at  Dr.  Beddoes',  who 
has  applied  himself  much  to  chemistry,  has  made  some 
discoveries  of  importance,  and  enthusiastically  expects 
wonders  will  be  performed  by  the  use  of  certain  gases, 
which  inebriate  in  the  most  delightful  manner,  having 

1  The  title  was  afterwards  changed  to  "To-morrow." 

2  Sir  Humphry  Davy,  the    distinguished  chemist  and  philosopher, 
born  1778,  died  1829. 


1799]  TO  MKS.   RUXTON  69 

the  oblivious  effects  of  Lethe,  and  at  the  same  time  giv- 
ing the  rapturous  sensations  of  the  Nectar  of  the  Gods ! 
Pleasure  even  to  madness  is  the  consequence  of  this 
draught.  But  faith,  great  faith,  is  I  believe  necessary 
to  produce  any  effect  upon  the  drinkers,  and  I  have 
seen  some  of  the  adventurous  philosophers  who  sought 
in  vain  for  satisfaction  in  the  bag  of  Gaseous  Oxyd, 
and  found  nothing  but  a  sick  stomach  and  a  giddy  head. 

"Our  stay  at  Clifton  was  made  very  agreeable," 
writes  Mrs.  Edge  worth,  "by  the  charm  of  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Beddoes'  society;1  her  grace,  genius,  vivacity,  and 
kindness,  and  his  great  abilities,  knowledge,  and  benev- 
olence, rendered  their  house  extremely  pleasant.  We 
met  at  Clifton  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barbauld.  He  was  an 
amiable  and  benevolent  man,  so  eager  against  the  slave- 
trade  that,  when  he  drank  tea  with  us,  he  always 
brought  some  East  India  sugar,  that  he  might  not  share 
our  wickedness  in  eating  that  made  by  the  negro  slave. 
Mrs.  Barbauld,  whose  '  Evenings  at  Home '  had  so 
much  delighted  Maria  and  her  father,  was  very  pretty, 
and  conversed  with  great  ability  in  admirable  language. " 

MARIA    TO    MBS.    RUXTON. 

CLIFTON,  June  5, 1799. 

Good  news,  my  dearest  aunt,  my  mother  is  fast 
asleep:  she  has  a  fine  little  daughter,  who  has  just  fin- 

1  Dr.  Beddoes,  described  by  Sir  Humphry  Davy  as  "  short  and  fat, 
with  nothing  externally  of  genius  or  science,"  was  very  peculiar.  One 
of  his  hobbies  was  to  convey  cows  into  invalids'  bedrooms,  that  they 
might "  inhale  the  breath  of  the  animals,"  a  prescription  which  naturally 
gave  umbrage  to  the  Clifton  lodging-house-keepers,  who  protested  that 
they  had  not  built  or  furnished  their  rooms  for  the  troops  of  cattle.  Mrs. 
Beddoes  had  a  wonderful  charm  of  wit  and  cheerfulness. 


70  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JAN. 

ished  eating  a  hearty  supper.  At  nine  minutes  before 
six  this  evening,  to  my  great  joy,  my  little  sister  Fanny 
came  into  the  world. 

We  are  impatient  for  dear  Sophy's  arrival.  My 
father  sends  his  kindest  love  to  his  dear  sister,  who  has 
been  always  the  sharer  of  his  pains  and  pleasures.  I 
said  my  mother  was  asleep,  and  though  my  father  and 
I  talk  in  our  sleep,  all  people  do  not;  if  she  did,  I  am 
sure  she  would  say,  "Love  to  my  Sister  R/uxton,  and 
my  friend  Letty." 

During  this  summer  the  Edgeworths  visited  Dr.  Dar- 
win, whom  Maria  Edgeworth  considered  not  only  a  first- 
rate  genius,  but  one  of  the  most  benevolent,  a*s  well  as 
wittiest  of  men.  He  stuttered,  but  far  from  this  lessen- 
ing the  charm  of  his  conversation,  Miss  Edgeworth  used 
to  say  that  the  hesitation  and  slowness  with  which  his 
words  came  forth  added  to  the  effect  of  his  humor  and 
shrewd  good  sense.  Dr.  Darwin's  sudden  death,  17th 
April,  1802,  whilst  he  was  writing  to  Mr.  Edgeworth, 
was  a  great  sorrow  to  his  Irish  friends. 

The  family  returned  home  in  September,  1799. 

MARIA    TO    MISS    RUXTON,   LIVING    AT    ARUNDEL    IN 

SUSSEX. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  January  29, 1800. 

More  precious  to  us  than  Arundelian  marbles  are  let- 
ters from  Arundel,  and  after  an  interval  of  almost  three 
months  dear  Sophy's  letter  was  most  welcome.  I  have 
no  complaints  to  make  of  you  —  sorrow  bit  of  right 
have  I  to  complain  of  you.  Some  time  ago  we  took  a 
walk  to  see  the  old  castle  of  Cranalagh,  from  which  in 


1800]  TO  MISS  RUXTON  71 

the  last  Rebellion  (but  one)  Lady  Edgeworth  was  turned 
out ;  part  of  it,  just  enough  to  swear  by,  remains  to  this 
day,  and  with  a  venerable  wig  of  ivy  at  top  cuts  a  very 
respectable  figure;  and,  moreover,  there  are  some  of  the 
finest  laurels  and  hollies  there  that  I  ever  saw,  and  as 
fine  a  smell  of  a  pigsty  as  ever  I  smelt,  and  an  arbor- 
vitse  tree,  of  which  I  gathered  a  leaf,  and  thought  that 
I  and  my  gloves  should  never  for  the  remainder  of  our 
lives  get  rid  of  the  smell  of  bad  apples,  of  which  this 
same  tree  of  life  smells.  But  I  have  not  yet  come  to 
the  thing  I  was  going  to  say  about  the  castle  of  Crana- 
lagh,  viz.  —  for  I  love  old-fashioned  viz.  —  when  we 
got  near  the  ruined  castle,  out  comes  a  barking  dog,  just 
such  another  as  assailed  us  at  the  old  castle  near  Black 
Castle,  to  which  we  walked  full  fifteen  years  ago;  the 
first  walk  I  ever  took  with  Sophy,  and  how  she  got 
home  without  her  shoe,  to  this  hour  I  cannot  compre- 
hend. It  was  this  barking  dog  which  brought  you 
immediately  to  my  mind,  and  if  I  have  given  you  too 
much  of  it  you  must  forgive  me.  Now  we  are  upon 
the  subject  of  old  castles,  do  you  remember  my  retailing 
to  you,  at  second  hand,  a  description  of  my  father's 
visit  to  the  Marquis  de  la  Poype's  old  chateau  in  Dau- 
phiny,  with  the  cavern  of  bats  and  stalactites?  A  little 
while  ago  my  father  received  a  letter  in  a  strange  hand, 
which  I  copy  for  my  aunt  and  you,  as  I  think  it  will 
please  you  as  it  did  us,  to  see  that  this  old  friend  of  my 
father's  remembers  him  with  so  much  kindness  through 
all  the  changes  and  chances  that  have  happened  in 
France.  The  letter  is  from  the  Marquis  de  la  Poype, 
who  addressed  it  to  the  Abbd  Edgeworth,  in  hopes  that 
the  Abbe*  could  transmit  it  to  my  father  —  the  lines  at 


72  MAKIA   EDGEWORTH  [1800 

the  end  are  in  the  Abbe"s  own  hand  —  the  handwriting 
of  so  great  and  good  a  man  is  a  curiosity. 

Before  this  reaches  you  my  father  will  be  in  Dublin; 
he  goes  on  Saturday  next  to  the  call  of  the  House  for 
the  grand  Union  business.  Tell  my  aunt  that  he  means 
to  speak  on  the  subject  on  Monday.  His  sentiments 
are  unchanged:  that  the  Union  would  be  advantageous 
to  all  the  parties  concerned,  but  that  England  has  not 
any  right  to  do  to  Ireland  good  against  her  will. 

Will  you  tell  me  what  means  you  have  of  getting 
parcels  from  London  to  Arundel?  because  I  wish  to 
send  to  my  aunt  a  few  "Popular  Tales,"  which  I  have 
finished,  as  they  cannot  be  wanted  for  some  months 
by  Mr.  Johnson.  We  have  begged  Johnson  to  send 
"Castle  Rackrent;"1  I  hope  it  has  reached  you:  do 
not  mention  to  any  one  that  it  is  ours.  Have  you  seen 
"Minor  Morals,"  by  Mrs.  Smith?  There  is  in  it  a 
beautiful  little  botanical  poem  called  the  "Calendar  of 
Flora." 

"Castle  Rackrent,"  the  story  of  an  Irish  estate,  as 
told  by  Thady,  the  old  steward,  was  first  published 
anonymously  in  1800.  Its  combination  of  Irish  humor 
and  pathos,  and  its  illustration  of  the  national  character, 
first  led  Walter  Scott  to  try  his  own  skill  in  depicting 
Scotch  character  in  the  same  way.  "If  I  could,"  he 
said  to  James  Ballantyne,  "but  hit  Miss  Edge  worth's 
wonderful  power  of  vivifying  all  her  persons,  and  mak- 
ing them  live  as  beings  in  your  mind,  I  should  not  be 
afraid."  With  the  publication  of  "Castle  Rackrent," 
which  was  intended  to  depict  the  follies  of  fashionable 
1  Published  without  the  author's  name  in  1800. 


1800]  TO  MISS  SOPHY  RUXTON  73 

life,  and  was  speedily  followed  by  "  Belinda, " l  the 
Edgeworths  immediately  became  famous,  and  the  books 
were  at  once  translated  into  French  and  German. 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  October  20, 1800. 

This  morning  dear  Henry 2  took  leave  of  home,  and 
set  out  for  Edinburgh.  "God  prosper  him,"  as  I  in 
the  language  of  a  fond  old  nurse  keep  continually  saying 
to  myself. 

Mr.  Chenevix,  a  famous  chemist,  was  so  good  as  to 
come  here  lately  to  see  my  father  upon  the  faith  of  Mr. 
Kirwan's  assurance  that  he  would  "like  Mr.  Edge- 
worth."  I  often  wished  for  you,  my  dear  Sophy, 
whilst  this  gentleman  was  here,  because  you  would  have 
been  so  much  entertained  with  his  conversation  about 
bogs,  and  mines,  and  airs,  and  acids,  etc.,  etc.  His 
history  of  his  imprisonment  during  the  French  Revolu- 
tion in  Paris  I  found  more  to  my  taste.  When  he  was 
thrown  into  prison  he  studied  Chaptal  and  Lavoisier's 
"  Chemistry  "  with  all  his  might,  and  then  represented 
himself  as  an  English  gentleman  come  over  to  study 
chemistry  in  France,  and  M.  Chaptal  got  him  released, 
and  employed  him,  and  he  got  acquainted  with  all  the 
chemists  and  scientific  men  in  France.  Mr.  Chenevix 
has  taken  a  house  in  Brook  Street,  London,  and  turned 
the  cellar  into  a  laboratory;  the  people  were  much 
afraid  to  let  it  to  him,  they  expected  he  would  blow  it 
up. 

1  There  is  no  doubt  that  Belinda  was  much  marred  by  the  alterations 
made  by  Mr.  Edgeworth,  in  whose  wisdom  and  skill  his  far  cleverer 
daughter  had  unlimited  and  touching  confidence. 

3  Eldest  son  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Edgeworth. 


74  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [DEC. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  December  2,  1800. 

My  mother  has  had  a  sore  throat,  and  Aunt  Charlotte 
and  Honora  have  had  feverish  attacks,  and  John  Jen- 
kins has  had  fever,  so  that  my  father  was  obliged  to 
remove  him  to  his  own  house  in  the  village.  There 
has  been  and  is  a  fever  in  the  lanes  of  Edgeworthstown, 
and  so  quickly  does  ill  news  fly,  that  this  got  before  us 
to  Collon,  to  the  Speaker's,  where  we  were  invited,  and 
had  actually  set  out  last  week  to  spend  a  few  days  there. 
When  we  got  to  Allenstown,  we  were  told  that  a  ser- 
vant from  the  Speaker's  had  arrived  with  a  letter,  and 
had  gone  on  to  Edgeworthstown  with  it;  we  waited  for 
his  return  with  the  letter,  which  was  to  forbid  our  going 
to  Collon,  as  Mrs.  Foster,  widow  of  the  Bishop,  was 
there  with  her  daughters,  and  was  afraid  of  our  bringing 
infection!  We  performed  quarantine  very  pleasantly 
for  a  week  at  Allenstown.  Mrs.  Waller's  inexhaustible 
fund  of  kindness  and  generosity  is  like  Aboulcasin's 
treasure,  it  is  not  only  inexhaustible,  but  take  what  you 
will  from  it  it  cannot  be  perceptibly  diminished.  Har- 
riet Beaufort1  is  indeed  a  charming  excellent  girl;  I 
love  and  esteem  her  more  and  more  as  I  know  her  bet- 
ter; she  has  been  at  different  times  between  three  and 
four  months  in  the  house  with  us,  and  I  have  had  full 
opportunities  of  seeing  down  to  the  kitchen,  and  up  to 
the  garret  of  her  mind. 

You  are  so  near  Johnson,2  that  you  must  of  course 
know  more  of  Maria's  sublime  works  than  Maria  knows 
of  them  herself;  and  besides  Lovell,  who  thinks  of 
them  ten  times  more  than  Johnson,  has  not  let  you 
burst  in  ignorance.  An  octavo  edition  of  "Practical 
l  Sister  of  Mrs.  Edgeworth.  a  The  bookseller. 


1800]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  75 

Education  "  is  to  come  out  at  Christmas ;  we  have  seen 
a  volume,  which  looks  as  well  as  can  be  expected.  The 
two  first  parts  of  "Early  Lessons,"  containing  Harry 
and  Lucy,  two  wee- wee  volumes,  have  just  come  over 
to  us.  Frank  and  Kosamond  will,  I  suppose,  come 
after  with  all  convenient  speed.  How  "  Moral  Tales  " 
are  arranged,  or  in  what  size  they  are  to  appear,  I  do 
not  know,  but  I  guess  they  will  soon  be  published, 
because  some  weeks  ago  we  received  four  engravings  for 
frontispieces;  they  are  beautifully  engraved  by  Neagle, 
and  do  justice  to  the  designs,  two  of  which  are  by  my 
mother,  and  two  by  Charlotte.  I  hope  you  will  like 
them.  There  are  three  stories  which  will  be  new  to 
you,  "The  Knapsack,"  "The  Prussian  Vase,"  and 
"Angelina." 

Now,  my  dear  friend,  you  cannot  say  that  I  do  not 
tell  you  what  I  am  doing.  My  father  is  employed 
making  out  Charts  of  History  and  Chronology,  such  as 
are  mentioned  in  "Practical  Education."  He  has  just 
finished  a  little  volume  containing  Explanations  of 
Poetry  for  children:  it  explains  the  "Elegy  in  a  Coun- 
try Churchyard,"  "L' Allegro,"  "II  Penseroso,"  and 
the  "Ode  to  Fear."  It  will  be  a  very  useful  school- 
book.  It  goes  over  to-night  to  Johnson,  but  how  long 
it  will  remain  with  him  before  you  see  it  in  print  I  can- 
not divine. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  narrates :  — 

"  Belinda "  was  published  in  1801.  Maria  was  at 
Black  Castle  when  the  first  copy  reached  her;  she  con- 
trived, before  her  aunt  saw  it,  to  tear  out  the  title-pages 


76  MAEIA  EDGE  WORTH  [1801 

of  the  three  volumes,  and  her  aunt  read  it  without  the 
least  suspicion  of  who  was  the  author,  and  excessively 
entertained  and  delighted,  she  insisted  on  Maria's  lis- 
tening to  passage  after  passage  as  she  went  on.  Maria 
affected  to  be  deeply  interested  in  some  book  she  held 
in  her  hand,  and  when  Mrs.  Euxton  exclaimed,  "Is 
not  that  admirably  written1?  "  Maria  coldly  replied, 
"Admirably  read,  I  think."  And  then  her  aunt,  as  if 
she  had  said  too  much,  added,  "It  may  not  be  so  very 
good,  but  it  shows  just  the  sort  of  knowledge  of  high 
life  which  people  have  who  live  in  the  world."  Then 
again  and  again  she  called  upon  Maria  for  her  sympa- 
thy, till  quite  provoked  at  her  faint  acquiescence,  she  at 
last  accused  her  of  being  envious:  "I  am  sorry  to  see 
my  little  Maria  unable  to  bear  the  praises  of  a  rival 
author. " 

At  this  Maria  burst  into  tears,  and  showing  her  aunt 
the  title-page  she  declared  herself  the  author.  But 
Mrs.  Ruxton  was  not  pleased  —  she  never  liked  "Be- 
linda "  afterwards,  and  Maria  had  always  a  painful 
recollection  of  her  aunt's  suspecting  her  of  the  meanness 
of  envy. 

In  1801  a  second  edition  of  "  Castle  Rackrent "  was 
published,  by  Maria  Edgeworth,  as  its  success  was  so 
triumphant  that  some  one  —  I  heard  his  name  at  the 
time  but  do  not  now  remember  it,  and  it  is  better  for- 
gotten —  not  only  asserted  that  he  was  the  author,  but 
actually  took  the  trouble  to  copy  out  several  pages  with 
corrections  and  erasures,  as  if  it  was  his  original  MS. ! 

The  "Essay  on  Irish  Bulls"  was  published  in  1802, 
by  R.  L.  Edgeworth  and  Maria  Edgeworth,  author  of 
"Castle  Rackrent."  A  gentleman,  much  interested  in 


1802]  MARIA   EDGEWORTH  77 

improving  the  breed  of  Irish  cattle,  sent)  on  seeing  the 
advertisement,  for  this  work  on  Irish  Bulls;  he  was 
rather  confounded  by  the  appearance  of  the  classical  bull 
at  the  top  of  the  first  page,  which  I  had  designed  from 
a  gem,  and  when  he  began  to  read  the  book  he  threw  it 
away  in  disgust;  he  had  purchased  it  as  Secretary  to 
the  Irish  Agricultural  Society. 

Of  the  partnership  in  this  book,  Miss  Edgeworth  writes 
long  afterwards :  — 

The  first  design  of  the  essay  was  my  father's;  under 
the  semblance  of  attack,  he  wished  to  show  the  English 
public  the  eloquence,  wit,  and  talents  of  the  lower 
classes  of  people  in  Ireland.  Working  zealously  upon 
the  ideas  which  he  suggested,  sometimes  what  was 
spoken  by  him  was  afterwards  written  by  me;  or  when 
I  wrote  my  first  thoughts,  they  were  corrected  and 
improved  by  him;  so  that  no  book  was  ever  written 
more  completely  in  partnership.  On  this,  as  on  most 
subjects,  whether  light  or  serious,  when  we  wrote  to- 
gether, it  would  now  be  difficult,  almost  impossible,  to 
recollect  which  thoughts  were  originally  his  and  which 
were  mine. 

The  notes  on  the  Dublin  shoeblacks'  metaphorical 
language  are  chiefly  his.  I  have  heard  him  tell  that  story 
with  all  the  natural,  indescribable  Irish  tones  and  ges- 
tures of  which  written  language  can  give  but  a  faint 
idea.  He  excelled  in  imitating  the  Irish,  because  he 
never  overstepped  the  modesty  or  the  assurance  of 
nature.  He  marked  exquisitely  the  happy  confidence, 
the  shrewd  wit  of  the  people,  without  condescending  to 


78  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [AUGUST 

produce  effect  by  caricature.  He  knew  not  only  their 
comic  talents,  but  their  powers  of  pathos;  and  often 
when  he  had  just  heard  from  me  some  pathetic  com- 
plaint, he  has  repeated  it  to  me  while  the  impression 
was  fresh.  In  his  chapter  on  Wit  and  Eloquence,  in 
"Irish  Bulls,"  there  is  a  speech  of  a  poor  freeholder  to 
a  candidate  who  asked  for  his  vote:  this  speech  was 
made  to  my  father  when  he  was  canvassing  the  county 
of  Longford.  It  was  repeated  to  me  a  few  hours  after- 
wards, and  I  wrote  it  down  instantly  without,  I  believe, 
the  variation  of  a  word. 

TO    MISS    KUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  August  1, 1802. 

You  are  a  goose  or  a  gosling,  whichever  you  like 
best,  for  I  perceive  you  are  in  great  anxiety  lest  my 
poor  little  imagination  should  not  have  been  completely 
set  to  rights.  Now  set  your  heart  at  ease,  for  I,  put- 
ting my  left  hand  upon  my  heart,  because  I  could  not 
conveniently  put  my  right,  which  holds  the  pen,  though 
I  acknowledge  that  would  be  much  more  graceful,  do 
hereby  declare  that  I  perfectly  understood  and  under- 
stand the  explanation  contained  in  your  last,  and  am 
fully  satisfied,  righted,  and  delighted  therewith. 

I  have  been  much  interested  by  the  "Letters  from 
Lausanne ; "  I  think  them  in  some  parts  highly  pathetic 
and  eloquent,  but  as  to  the  moral  tendency  of  the  book 
I  cannot  find  it  out,  turn  it  which  way  I  will.  I  think 
the  author  wrote  merely  with  the  intention  of  showing 
how  well  he  could  paint  passion,  and  he  has  succeeded. 
The  Savage  of  Aveyron 1  is  a  thousand  times  more  inter- 
i  A  little  history  of  a  boy  found  in  France,  "a  wild  man  of  the 


1802]  TO  MISS   RUXTON  79 

esting  to  me  than  Caliste.  I  have  not  read  anything 
for  years  that  interested  me  so  much.  Mr.  Chenevix 
will  be  here  in  a  few  days,  when  we  will  cross-question 
him  about  this  savage,  upon  whom  the  eyes  of  civil- 
ized Europe  have  been  fixed.  Mr.  Chenevix  and  his 
sister,  Mrs.  Tuite,  and  with  them  Mrs.  Jephson,  spent  a 
day  here  last  week:  she  is  clever  and  agreeable.  What 
did  you  think  of  M.  Pictet's  account  of  Edge  worths- 
town? 

Professor  Marc-Auguste  Pictet,  of  Geneva,  visited  the 
Edgeworths  this  summer,  coming  over  from  Mr.  Tuite 's, 
of  Sonna,  where  he  was  staying  with  Mr.  Chenevix. 
He  afterwards  published  an  interesting  account  of  his 
visit  to  Edgeworthstown  in  the  "  Bibliotheque  Britan- 
nique,"  as  well  as  in  his  "Voyage  de  trois  mois  en 
Angleterre,"  which  was  published  at  Geneva  in  1802. 
Of  Maria  Edgeworth  he  says :  — 

"I  had  persuaded  myself  that  the  author  of  the  work 
on  Education,  and  of  other  productions,  useful  as  well 
as  ornamental,  would  betray  herself  by  a  remarkable 
exterior.  I  was  mistaken.  A  small  figure,  eyes  nearly 
always  lowered,  a  profoundly  modest  and  reserved  air, 
with  expression  in  the  features  when  not  speaking:  such 
was  the  result  of  my  first  survey.  But  when  she 
spoke,  which  was  too  rarely  for  my  taste,  nothing  could 
have  been  better  thought,  and  nothing  better  said, 
though  always  timidly  expressed,  than  that  which  fell 
from  her  mouth." 

M.  Pictet's  account  of  the  society  at  Paris  induced 

woods."  He  was  brought  to  Paris,  and  the  philosophers  disputed  much 
on  his  mental  powers  ;  but  he  died  before  they  came  to  any  conclusion. 


80  MAEIA  EDGEWOBTH  [SEPT. 

Mr.  Edgeworth  to  determine  on  going  there.  He  set 
out  in  the  middle  of  September,  with  Mrs.  Edgeworth, 
Maria,  Emmeline,  and  Charlotte.  Emmeline  left  the 
rest  of  the  family  at  Conway,  and  went  to  stay  with 
Mrs.  Beddoes  at  Clifton,  where  she  was  married  to  Mr. 
King  (or  Konig,  a  native  of  Berne),  a  distinguished 
surgeon. 

In  London  Mr.  Edgeworth  purchased  a  roomy  coach, 
in  which  his  family  traveled  very  comfortably. 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    BUXTON. 

LOUGHBOKOUGH,  September  25,  1802. 

I  calculate,  my  dear  Sophy,  that  you  have  accused 
me  at  least  a  hundred  times  of  being  lazy  and  good-for- 
nothing,  because  I  have  not  written  since  we  left  Dub- 
lin; but  do  not  be  angry,  I  was  not  well  during  the 
time  we  were  in  Dublin,  nor  for  two  or  three  days  after 
we  landed;  but  three  days'  rest  at  Bangor  Ferry  recov- 
ered me  completely,  and  thanks  to  Dr.  Diet,  Dr.  Quiet, 
and  Dr.  Merryman,  I  am  now  in  perfectly  good  plight. 

To  take  up  things  at  the  beginning.  We  had  a 
tedious  passage,  but  Charlotte  and  I  sat  upon  deck,  and 
were  well  enough  to  be  much  amused  with  all  the 
manoeuvring  of  the  sails,  etc.  The  light  reflected  upon 
the  waters  from  the  lighthouse  contracted  instead  of 
diverging:  I  mention  this,  because  there  was  an  argu- 
ment held  upon  the  subject  either  at  Black  Castle  or  at 
Collon.  As  we  were  all  sitting  upon  deck  drinking  tea 
in  the  morning,  a  large,  very  large,  woman  who  was 
reading  opposite  to  us,  fell  from  her  seat  with  a  terrible 
noise.  We  all  thought  she  had  fallen  down  dead:  the 
gentlemen  gathered  round  her,  and  when  she  was  lifted 


1802]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  KUXTON  81 

up  she  was  a  shocking  spectacle,  her  face  covered  with 
blood  —  she  had  fallen  upon  one  of  the  large  nails  in 
the  deck.  She  recovered  her  senses,  but  when  she 
was  carried  down  to  the  cabin  she  fainted  again,  and 
remained  two  hours  senseless.  "She  has  a  mother, 
ma'am,"  said  the  steward,  "who  is  lying  a-dying  at 
Holy  head,  and  she  frets  greatly  for  her."  We  were 
told  afterwards  that  this  lady  has  for  twenty  years 
crossed  the  sea  annually  to  visit  her  mother,  though  she 
never  could  make  the  passage  without  swooning.  She 
was  a  coarse  housekeeper-looking  woman,  without  any 
pretense  to  sentimentality,  but  I  think  she  showed  more 
affection  and  real  heroism  than  many  who  have  been 
immortalized  by  the  pen  or  pencil. 

Nothing  new  or  entertaining  from  Holy  head  to  Ban- 
gor.  A  delightful  day  at  Bangor,  pleasant  walk:  Char- 
lotte drew  some  Welsh  peasants  and  children;  we  tried 
to  talk  to  them,  but  Dumsarzna,  or  words  to  that 
effect,  "I  don't  understand  English,"  was  the  constant 
answer,  and  the  few  who  could  speak  English  seemed 
to  have  no  wish  to  enter  into  conversation  with  us ;  the 
farmers  intrenched  themselves  in  their  houses  and  shut 
their  doors  as  fast  as  they  could  when  we  approached. 
From  Bangor  Ferry  we  took  a  pleasant  excursion  to 
Carnarvon  —  do  not  be  afraid,  I  shall  not  give  you  a 
long  description  of  the  castle  —  I  know  you  have  seen 
it,  but  I  wish  I  knew  whether  you  and  I  saw  it  with 
the  same  ideas.  I  could  not  have  conceived  that  any 
building  or  ruin  could  have  appeared  to  me  so  sublime. 
The  amazing  size!  the  distinctness  of  the  parts!  the 
simplicity  of  the  design,  the  thickness  of  the  walls,  the 
air  of  grandeur  even  in  decay!  In  the  courtyard  of 


82  MAKIA  EDGEWOETH  [SEPT. 

the  castle  an  old  horse  and  three  cows  were  grazing,  and 
beneath  the  cornices  on  the  walls  two  goats,  half  black, 
half  white,  were  browsing.  I  believe  that  old  castles 
interest  one  by  calling  up  ideas  of  past  times,  which  are 
in  such  strong  contrast  with  the  present.  In  the  court- 
yard of  this  castle  were  brewing  vessels  in  vaults  which 
had  formerly  perhaps  been  dungeons,  and  pitched  sails 
stretched  upon  the  walls  to  dry:  the  spirit  of  old 
romance  and  modern  manufactures  do  not  agree. 

Mr.  Waitman,  the  landlord  of  the  Carnarvon  Hotel, 
accompanied  us  to  the  castle,  and  he  was  indeed  a  glori- 
ous contrast  to  the  enthusiastic  old  man  who  showed  the 
ruins.  This  old  man's  eyes  brightened  when  he  talked 
of  the  Eagle  Tower,  and  he  seemed  to  forget  that  he 
had  a  terrible  asthma  whilst  he  climbed  the  flights  of 
stone  stairs.  Our  landlord,  a  thorough  Englishman,  in 
shrewd,  willful  independence,  entertained  my  father  by 
his  character  and  conversation,  and  pleased  him  by  his 
praises  of  Lovell,  of  whom  he  spoke  with  much  grati- 
tude. We  returned  at  night  to  Bangor  Eerry.  Early 
next  morning  my  father  and  mother,  on  two  Welsh 
ponies,  trotted  off  to  see  Lord  Penrhyn's  slate  quarries. 
We  had  orders  to  follow  them  in  a  few  hours.  In  the 
mean  time  who  do  you  think  arrived  ?  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Saunderson,  with  all  their  children.  They  seemed  as 
glad  to  see  me  as  I  was  to  see  them.  They  had  in- 
tended to  go  another  road,  but  went  on  to  Conway  on 
purpose  to  spend  the  day  with  us.  A  most  pleasant  day 
we  did  spend  with  them.  They  were  going  to  Bristol 
to  see  their  son,  and  when  they  found  that  Emmeline 
was  going  there,  they  offered  in  the  kindest  and  most 
polite  manner  to  take  her  with  them.  We  parted  with 


1802]  TO  MISS   SOPHY   RUXTON  83 

Emmeline  and  with  them  the  next  morning;  they  went 
to  Keniogy,  which  I  can't  spell,  and  we  went  to  Holy- 
well,  and  saw  the  copper  works,  a  vast  manufactory,  in 
which  there  seemed  to  be  no  one  at  work.  We  heard 
and  saw  large  wheels  turning  without  any  visible  cause, 
"instinct  with  spirit  all."  At  first  nothing  but  the 
sound  of  dripping  water,  then  a  robin  began  to  sing 
amongst  the  rafters  of  the  high  and  strange  roof.  The 
manufactory  in  which  the  men  were  at  work  was  a 
strong  contrast  to  this  desolate  place;  a  stunning  noise, 
Cyclops  with  bared  arms  dragging  sheets  of  red-hot  cop- 
per, and  thrusting  it  between  the  cylinders  to  flatten  it; 
while  it  passed  between  these,  the  flame  issued  forth 
with  a  sort  of  screeching  noise.  When  I  first  heard  it 
I  thought  somebody  was  hurt:  the  flame  was  occasioned 
by  the  burning  of  the  grease  put  between  the  rollers. 
There  were  a  number  of  children  employed  drawing 
straight  lines  on  the  sheets  of  copper,  ready  for  a  man 
with  a  large  pair  of  shears  to  cut.  The  whole  process 
was  simple. 

Saw  the  famous  well,  in  which  the  spring  supplies  a 
hundred  tuns  a  minute.  Went  on  to  Chester  and  New- 
castle, in  hopes  of  finding  Jos.  Wedgwood  at  Etru- 
ria;  were  told  he  was  not  in  the  country,  but  just  as 
our  chaise  whips  up,  papa  espied  Wedgwood's  partner, 
who  told  him  Jos.  was  at  Etruria  —  came  last  night, 
would  stay  but  one  day.  Went  to  Etruria,  Jos.  re- 
ceived us  as  you  would  expect,  and  all  the  time  I  was 
with  him  I  had  full  in  my  recollection  the  handsome 
manner  in  which  you  told  me  he  spoke  of  my  father. 
The  mansion-house  at  Etruria  is  excellent;  but,  alas! 
the  Wedgwoods  have  bought  an  estate  in  Dorsetshire, 


84  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [SEPT. 

and  are  going  to  leave  Etruria.  I  do  not  mean  that 
they  have  given  up  their  share  in  the  manufactory. 
Saw  a  flint  mill  worked  by  a  steam-engine  just  finished, 
cannot  stay  to  describe  it  —  for  two  reasons,  because  I 
cannot  describe  it  intelligibly,  and  because  I  want  to  get 
on  to  the  Priory  to  Mrs.  and  the  Miss  Darwins.  Poor 
Dr.  Darwin ! 1  It  was  melancholy  to  go  to  that  house 
to  which,  in  the  last  lines  he  ever  wrote,  he  had  invited 
us.  The  servants  in  deep  mourning;  Mrs.  Darwin  and 
her  beautiful  daughters  in  deep  mourning.  She  was 
much  affected  at  seeing  my  father,  and  seemed  to  regret 
her  husband  as  such  a  husband  ought  to  be  regretted. 
I  liked  her  exceedingly;  there  was  so  much  heart,  and 
so  little  constraint  or  affectation  in  all  she  said  and  did, 
or  looked.  There  was  a  charming  picture  of  Dr.  Dar- 
win in  the  room,  in  which  his  generous  soul  appeared 
and  his  penetrating  benevolent  genitis.  How  unlike 
the  wretched  misanthropic  print  we  have  seen!  While 
I  am  writing  this  at  Loughborough,  my  father  is  a  few 
miles  off  at  Castle  Donnington.  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
that  we  spent  a  delightful  day,  or  remnant  of  a  day,  on 
our  return  from  the  Priory,  at  Mr.  Strutt's. 

TO    MISS    SNEYD. 

LONDON,  NEROT'S  HOTEL,  September  27,  1802. 
We  have  been  here  about  an  hour,  and  next  to  the 
pleasure  of  washing  face  and  hands,  which  were  all  cov- 
ered with  red  Woburn  sand  and  Dunstable  chalk,  and 
London  dust,  comes  the  pleasure  of  writing  to  you,  my 
dear  good  Aunt  Mary.     How  glad  I  should  be  to  give 
you  any  proof  of  gratitude  for  the  many  large  and  little 
i  Dr.  Darwin  died  17th  April,  1802. 


1802]  TO  MISS  SNEYD  85 

kindnesses  you  have  shown  to  me.  There  is  no  one  in 
the  world  who  can  deserve  to  be  thought  of  more  at  all 
times,  and  in  all  situations,  than  you;  for  there  is  no 
one  thinks  so  much  of  others.  As  long  as  there  is  any 
one  worth  your  loving  upon  earth,  you  cannot  be  un- 
happy. I  think  you  would  have  been  very  apt  to  make 
the  speech  attributed  to  St.  Theresa:  "Le  pauvre 
Diable!  comme  je  le  plains!  II  ne  peut  rien  aimer. 
Ah!  qu'il  doit  etre  malheureux!" 

But  whilst  I  am  talking  sentiment  you  may  be  impa- 
tient for  news.  The  first  and  best  news  is,  that  my 
father  is  extremely  well.  Traveling,  he  says,  has  done 
him  a  vast  deal  of  good,  and  whoever  looks  at  him 
believes  him.  It  would  be  well  for  all  faces  if  they 
had  that  effect  on  the  spectators,  or  rather  perhaps  it 
would  be  ill  for  the  credulous  spectators.  Isabella  of 
Aragon,  or  Lord  Chesterfield,  or  both,  call  a  good  coun- 
tenance the  best  letter  of  recommendation.  Whenever 
Nature  gives  false  letters  of  recommendation,  she  swin- 
dles in  the  most  abominable  manner.  Where  she  re- 
fuses them  where  they  are  best  deserved,  she  only  gives 
additional  motive  for  exertion  (vide  Socrates  or  his 
bust).1  And  after  all,  Nature  is  forced  out  of  her  let- 
ters of  recommendation  sooner  or  later.  You  know  that 
it  is  said  by  Lavater,  that  the  muscles  of  Socrates' 
countenance  are  beautiful,  and  these  became  so  by  the 
play  given  to  them  by  the  good  passions,  etc.,  etc.,  etc. 

Charlotte  tells  me  she  carried  you  in  her  last  as  far 
as  Loughborough  and  Castle  Donnington;  will  you  be  so 
good  to  go  on  to  Leicester  with  me  ?  But  before  we  set 

1  An  alabaster  bust  of  Socrates,  which  stood  on  the  chimney-piece  in 
the  drawing-room  at  Black  Castle. 


86  MAKIA  EDGEWOKTH  [SEPT. 

out  for  Leicester,  I  should  like  to  take  you  to  Castle 
Donnington,  "the  magnificent  seat  of  the  Earl  of 
Moira. "  But  then  how  can  I  do  that,  when  I  did  not 
go  there  myself?  Oh!  I  can  describe  after  a  descrip- 
tion as  well  as  my  betters  have  done  before  me  in  prose 
and  verse,  and  a  description  of  my  father's  is  better 
than  the  reality  seen  with  my  own  eyes.  The  first 
approach  to  Donnington  disappointed  him;  he  looked 
round  and  saw  neither  castle,  nor  park,  nor  anything  to 
admire  till  he  came  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  when  in  the 
valley  below  suddenly  appeared  the  turrets  of  a  castle, 
surpassing  all  he  had  conceived  of  light  and  magnificent 
in  architecture:  a  real  castle!  not  a  modern,  bungling 
imitation.  The  inside  was  suitable  in  grandeur  to  the 
outside;  hall,  staircase,  antechambers;  the  library  fitted 
up  entirely  with  books  in  plain  handsome  mahogany 
bookcases,  not  a  frippery  ornament,  everything  grand, 
but  not  gaudy;  marble  tables,  books  upon  the  tables; 
nothing  littered,  but  sufficient  signs  of  living  and  occu- 
pied beings.  At  the  upper  end  of  the  room  sat  two 
ladies  copying  music,  a  gentleman  walking  about  with 
a  book  in  his  hand;  neither  Lord  Moira  nor  Lady  Char- 
lotte Rawdon  in  the  room.  The  gentleman,  Mr.  Sed- 
ley,  not  having  an  instinct  like  Mademoiselle  Panache 
for  a  gentleman,  did  not,  till  Lord  Moira  entered  the 
room  and  received  my  father  with  open  arms,  feel  sure 
that  he  was  worthy  of  more  than  monosyllable  civility. 
Lord  Moira  took  the  utmost  pains  to  show  my  father 
that  he  was  pleased  with  his  visit,  said  he  must  have 
the  pleasure  of  showing  him  over  the  house  himself, 
and  finished  by  giving  him.  a  letter  to  the  Princess 
Joseph  de  Monaco,  who  is  now  at  Paris.  She  was  Mrs. 


1802]  TO   MISS   SNEYD  87 

Doyle.  He  also  sent  to  Mrs.  Edge-worth  the  very  finest 
grapes  I  ever  beheld.  I  wished  the  moment  I  saw 
them,  my  dear  aunt,  that  you  had  a  bunch  of  them. 

We  proceeded  to  Leicester.  Handsome  town,  good 
shops:  walked,  whilst  dinner  was  getting  ready,  to  a 
circulating  library.  My  father  asked  for  "Belinda," 
"Bulls,"  etc.,  found  they  were  in  good  repute  —  "Castle 
Rackrent"  in  better  —  the  others  often  borrowed,  but 
"Castle  Rackrent"  often  bought.  The  bookseller,  an 
open-hearted  man,  begged  us  to  look  at  a  book  of  poems 
just  published  by  a  Leicester  lady,  a  Miss  Watts.  I 
recollected  to  have  seen  some  years  ago  a  specimen  of 
this  lady's  proposed  translation  of  Tasso,  which  my 
father  had  highly  admired.  He  told  the  bookseller  that 
we  would  pay  our  respects  to  Miss  Watts,  if  it  would 
be  agreeable  to  her.  When  we  had  dined,  we  set  out 
with  our  enthusiastic  bookseller.  We  were  shown  by 
the  light  of  a  lantern  along  a  very  narrow  passage 
between  high  walls,  to  the  door  of  a  decent-looking 
house:  a  maid- servant,  candle  in  hand,  received  us. 
"Be  pleased,  ladies,  to  walk  upstairs."  A  neatish 
room,  nothing  extraordinary  in  it  except  the  inhabitants. 
Mrs.  Watts,  a  tall,  black-eyed,  prim,  dragon-looking 
woman  in  the  background.  Miss  Watts,  a  tall  young 
lady  in  white,  fresh  color,  fair,  thin  oval  face,  rather 
pretty.  The  moment  Mrs.  Edgeworth  entered,  Miss 
Watts,  mistaking  her  for  the  authoress,  darted  forward 
with  arms,  long  thin  arms,  outstretched  to  their  utmost 
swing:  "On,  WHAT  AN  HONOR  THIS  is!"  each  word 
and  syllable  rising  in  tone  till  the  last  reached  a  scream. 
Instead  of  embracing  my  mother,  as  her  first  action 
threatened,  she  started  back  to  the  farthest  end  of  the 


88  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [SEPT. 

room,  which  was  not  light  enough  to  show  her  attitude 
distinctly,  but  it  seemed  to  he  intended  to  express  the 
receding  of  awe-struck  admiration  —  stopped  by  the  wall. 
Charlotte  and  I  passed  by  unnoticed,  and  seated  ourselves 
by  the  old  lady's  desire:  she  after  many  twistings  of  her 
wrists,  elbows,  and  neck,  all  of  which  appeared  to  be  dis- 
located, fixed  herself  in  her  armchair,  resting  her  hands  on 
the  black  mahogany  splayed  elbows.  Her  person  was  no 
sooner  at  rest  than  her  eyes  and  all  her  features  began  to 
move  in  all  directions.  She  looked  like  a  nervous  and  sus- 
picious person  electrified.  She  seemed  to  be  the  acting 
partner  in  this  house  to  watch  over  her  treasure  of  a  daugh- 
ter, to  supply  her  with  worldly  wisdom,  to  look  upon  her 
as  a  phoenix,  and  —  scold  her.  Miss  Watts  was  all  ecstasy 
and  lifting  up  of  hands  and  eyes,  speaking  always  in 
that  loud,  shrill,  theatrical  tone  with  which  a  puppet- 
master  supplies  his  puppets.  I  all  the  time  sat  like 
a  mouse.  My  father  asked,  "Which  of  those  ladies, 
madam,  do  you  think  is  your  sister  authoress?"  "I 
am  no  physiognomist,"  —  in  a  screech, — "but  I  do 
imagine  that  to  be  the  lady,"  bowing  as  she  sat  almost 
to  the  ground,  and  pointing  to  Mrs.  Edgeworth.  "No, 
guess  again."  "Then  that  must  be  she,"  bowing  to 
Charlotte.  "No."  "Then  this  lady,"  looking  for- 
ward to  see  what  sort  of  an  animal  I  was,  for  she  had 
never  seen  me  till  this  instant.  To  make  me  some 
amends,  she  now  drew  her  chair  close  to  me,  and  began 
to  pour  forth  praises :  "  Lady  Delacour,  0 !  Letters  for 
Literary  Ladies,  0 !  " 

Now  for  the  pathetic  part.  This  poor  girl  sold  a 
novel  in  four  volumes  for  ten  guineas  to  Lane.  My 
father  is  afraid,  though  she  has  considerable  talents,  to 


1802]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  89 

recommend  her  to  Johnson,  lest  she  should  not  answer. 
Poor  girl,  what  a  pity  she  had  no  friend  to  direct  her 
talents ;  how  much  she  made  me  feel  the  value  of  mine ! 

TO    MISS    SOPHY  RUXTON. 

BRUSSELS,  October  15, 1802. 

After  admiring  on  the  ramparts  of  Calais  the  Pois- 
sardes  with  their  picturesque  nets,  ugly  faces,  and  beau- 
tiful legs,  we  set  out  for  Gravelines,  with  whips  clack- 
ing in  a  manner  which  you  certainly  cannot  forget. 
The  stillness  and  desolation  of  Gravelines  was  like  the 
city  in  the  Arabian  Tales,  where  every  one  is  turned 
into  stone.  Fortifications  constructed  by  the  famous 
Vauban,  lunes,  and  demilunes,  and  curtains,  all  which 
did  not  prevent  the  French  from  trotting  through  it. 

We  left  Gravelines  with  an  equipage  at  which  So- 
briety herself  could  not  have  forborne  to  laugh:  to  our 
London  coach  were  fastened  by  long  rope  traces  six 
Flemish  horses  of  different  heights,  but  each  large  and 
clumsy  enough  to  draw  an  English  wagon.  The  nose 
of  the  foremost  horse  was  thirty-five  feet  from  the  body 
of  the  coach,  their  hoofs  all  shaggy,  their  manes  all 
uncombed,  and  their  tails  long  enough  to  please  Sir 
Charles  Grandison  himself.  These  beasts  were  totally 
disencumbered  of  every  sort  of  harness  except  one  strap 
which  fastened  the  saddle  on  their  backs;  and  high, 
high  upon  their  backs,  sat  perfectly  perpendicular,  long- 
waisted  postilions  in  jack- boots,  with  pipes  in  their 
mouths.  The  country  appeared  one  vast  flat  common, 
without  hedges,  or  ditches,  or  trees,  tiled  farmhouses  of 
equal  size  and  similar  form  at  even  distances.  All  that 
the  power  of  monotony  can  do  to  put  a  traveler  to  sleep 


90  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [OCT. 

is  here  tried;  but  the  rattling  and  jolting  on  the  paved 
roads  set  Morpheus  and  monotony  both  at  defiance.  To 
comfort  ourselves  we  had  a  most  entertaining  "Voyage 
dans  les  Pays  Bas  par  M.  Breton"  to  read,  and  the 
charming  story  of  Mademoiselle  de  Clermont  in  Madame 
de  Genlis's  "Petits  Komans."  I  never  read  a  more 
pathetic  and  finely  written  tale. 

Dunkirk  is  an  ugly,  bustling  town.  Strange-looking 
charettes,  driven  by  thin  men  in  cocked  hats,  —  the 
window-shutters  turned  out  to  the  streets  and  painted 
by  way  of  signs  with  various  commodities.  A  variety 
of  things,  among  them  little  shifts,  petticoats,  and  cor- 
sets, were  fairly  spread  upon  the  ground  on  the  bridges 
and  in  the  streets.  The  famous  basin,  about  which 
there  have  been  such  disputes,  is  little  worth.  Voltaire 
wonders  at  the  English  and  French  waging  war  "for  a 
few  acres  of  snow ; "  he  might  with  equal  propriety 
have  laughed  at  them  for  fighting  about  a  slop-basin. 
The  pont-tournant  is  well  worth  seeing,  and  for  those 
who  have  strong  legs  and  who  have  breakfasted,  it  is 
worth  while  to  climb  the  two  hundred  and  sixty-four 
steps  of  the  tower.  Whilst  we  were  climbing  the  town 
clock  struck,  and  the  whole  tower  vibrated,  and  the 
vibration  communicated  itself  to  our  ears  and  heads  in 
a  most  sublime  and  disagreeable  manner. 

At  Dunkirk  we  entered  what  was  formerly  called 
L'ancien  Brabant,  and  all  things  and  all  persons  began 
to  look  like  Dutch  prints  and  Dutch  toys,  especially  the 
women  with  their  drop  earrings,  and  their  necklaces  like 
the  labels  of  decanters,  their  long-waisted,  long-flapped 
jackets  of  one  color,  and  stiff  petticoats  of  another. 
Even  when  moving  the  people  all  looked  like  wooden 


1802]  TO   MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  91 

toys  set  in  motion  by  strings  —  the  strings  in  Flanders 
must  be  of  gold;  the  Flemings  seem  to  be  all  a  money- 
making,  money-loving  people;  they  are  fast  recovering 
their  activity  after  the  Revolution. 

The  road  to  Bruges,  fifty  feet  broad,  solidly  paved  in 
the  middle,  seems,  like  all  French  and  Flemish  roads, 
to  have  been  laid  out  by  some  inflexible  mathematician: 
they  are  always  right  lines,  the  shortest  possible  between 
two  points.  The  rows  of  trees  on  each  side  of  these 
never-ending  avenues  are  of  the  ugliest  sort  and  figure 
possible:  tall  poplars  stripped  almost  to  the  top,  as  you 
would  strip  a  pen,  and  pollarded  willows;  the  giant 
poplar  and  the  dwarf  willow  placed  side  by  side  alter- 
nately, knight  and  squire.  The  postilions  have  badges 
like  the  badges  of  charity  schools,  strapped  round  their 
arms;  these  are  numbered  and  registered,  and  if  they 
behave  ill,  a  complaint  may  be  lodged  against  them  by 
merely  writing  their  names  on  the  register,  which  ex- 
cludes them  from  a  pension,  to  which  they  would  be 
entitled  if  they  behaved  well  for  a  certain  number  of 
years.  The  post-houses  are  often  lone,  wretched  places, 
one  into  which  I  peeped,  a  grenier,  like  that  described 
by  Smollett,  in  which  the  murdered  body  is  concealed. 
At  another  post-house  we  met  with  a  woman  calling 
herself  a  servante,  to  whom  we  took  not  only  an  aver- 
sion, but  a  horror;  Charlotte  said  that  she  should  be 
afraid,  not  of  that  woman's  cutting  her  throat,  but  that 
she  would  take  a  mallet  and  strike  her  head  flat  at  one 
blow.  Do  you  remember  the  woman  in  "Caleb  Wil- 
liams," when  he  wakens  and  sees  her  standing  over  him 
with  an  uplifted  hatchet?  Our  servante  might  have 
stood  for  this  picture. 


92  MAKIA   EDGEWORTH  [OCT. 

Bruges  is  a  very  old,  desolate-looking  town,  which 
seems  to  have  felt  in  common  with  its  fellow  towns  the 
effects  of  the  Revolution.  As  we  were  charged  very 
high  at  the  Hotel  d' Angle terre,  at  Dunkirk,  my  father 
determined  to  go  to  the  Hotel  de  Commerce  at  Bruges, 
an  old  strange  house  which  had  been  a  monastery:  the 
man  chamber-maid  led  us  through  gallery  after  gallery, 
upstairs  and  downstairs,  turning  all  manner  of  ways, 
with  a  bunch  of  keys  in  his  hand,  each  key  ticketed 
with  a  pewter  ticket.  There  were  twenty-eight  bed- 
chambers —  thank  heaven  we  did  not  see  them  all !  I 
never  shall  forget  the  feeling  I  had  when  the  door  of 
the  room  was  thrown  open  in  which  we  were  to  sleep. 
It  was  so  large  and  so  dark,  that  I  could  scarcely  see 
the  low  bed  in  a  recess  in  the  wall,  covered  with  a  dark 
brown  quilt.  I  am  sure  Mrs.  Radcliffe  might  have 
kept  her  heroine  wandering  about  this  room  for  six  good 
pages.  When  we  meet  I  will  tell  Margaret  of  the  night 
Charlotte  and  I  spent  in  this  room,  and  the  footsteps 
we  heard  overhead  —  just  a  room  and  just  a  night  to 
suit  her  taste. 

In  the  morning  we  went  to  see  the  Central  School;  it 
is  in  what  was  an  old  monastery,  and  the  church  belong- 
ing to  it  is  filled  with  pictures  collected  from  all  the 
suppressed  convents,  monasteries,  and  churches.  Buona- 
parte has  lately  restored  some  of  their  pictures  to  the 
churches,  but  those  by  Rubens  and  Raphael  are  at 
Paris.  In  the  cabinet  of  natural  history  there  is  the 
skeleton  and  the  skin  of  a  man  who  was  guillotined,  as 
fine  white  leather  as  ever  you  saw.  The  preparations 
for  these  Ecoles  Centrales  are  all  too  vast  and  ostenta- 
tious; the  people  are  just  beginning  to  send  their  chil- 


1802]  TO   MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  93 

dren  to  them.  Government  finds  them  too  expensive, 
and  their  number  is  to  be  diminished.  The  librarian 
of  this  Ecole  Centrale  at  Bruges  is  an  Englishman,  or 
rather  a  Jamaica  man,  of  the  name  of  Edwards.  Brian 
Edwards  was  his  great  friend,  and  he  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  Johnson  the  bookseller,  and  Dr.  Aikin, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barbauld.  Mr.  Edwards  and  his 
son  had  often  met  Lovell  at  Johnson's,  and  spoke  of 
him  quite  with  affection.  The  two  sons  spent  the 
evening  with  us,  and  they  and  their  father  accompanied 
us  next  morning  part  of  our  way  to  Ghent.  We  went 
by  the  canal  bark,  as  elegant  as  any  pleasure-boat  I 
ever  was  in.  My  father  entertained  the  Edwardses  with 
the  history  of  his  physiognomical  guesses  in  a  stage- 
coach. The  eldest  son  piques  himself  upon  telling 
character  from  handwriting.  He  was  positive  that  mine 
could  not  be  the  hand  of  a  woman,  and  then  he  came 
off  by  saying  it  was  the  writing  of  a  manly  character ! 
We  Jaad  an  extremely  fine  day,  and  the  receding  pros- 
pect of  Bruges,  with  its  mingled  spires,  shipping,  and 
windmills,  the  tops  of  their  giant  vanes  moving  above 
the  trees,  gave  a  pleasing  example  of  a  Flemish  land- 
scape, recalling  the  pictures  of  Teniers  and  the  prints  of 
Le  Bas.  We  had  good  and  agreeable  company  on  board 
our  bark,  the  Mayor  of  Bruges  and  his  lady ;  her  friend, 
a  woman  of  good  family ;  and  an  old  Baron  Triste,  of  a 
sixteen-quartering  family.  At  the  name  of  Mayor  of 
Bruges,  you  probably  represent  to  yourself  a  fat,  heavy, 
formal,  self-sufficient  mortal  —  tout  au  contraire:  our 
Mayor  was  a  thin  gentleman,  of  easy  manners,  litera- 
ture, and  amusing  conversation;  Madame,  a  beautiful 
Provinciale.  M.  Lerret,  the  Mayor,  found  us  out  to 


94  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Ocr. 

be  the  Edgeworths  described  by  M.  Pictet  in  the 
"Journal  Britannique. "  Since  we  came  to  France  we 
have  found  M.  Pictet 's  account  very  useful,  for  at  every 
public  library,  and  in  every  Ecole  Centrale,  the  "Jour- 
nal Britannique "  is  taken,  and  we  have  consequently 
received  many  civilities.  It  was  Sunday,  and  when 
we  arrived  at  Ghent  all  the  middling  people  of  the 
town,  in  their  holiday  clothes,  were  assembled  on  the 
banks  of  the  canal  according  to  custom  to  see  the  bark 
arrive;  they  made  the  scene  very  cheerful.  The  old 
Baron  de  Triste,  though  he  had  not  dined,  and  though 
he  had,  as  he  said  of  himself,  "un  faim  de  diable," 
stayed  to  battle  our  coach  and  trunks  through  an  army 
of  custom-house  officers.  We  stayed  two  days  at  Ghent, 
and  saw  pictures  and  churches  without  number.  Here 
were  some  fine  pictures  by  that  Grayer  of  whom  Rubens 
said,  "  Grayer !  personne  ne  te  surpassera !  "  Do  not  be 
afraid,  my  dear  Sophy,  I  am  not  going  to  overwhelm 
you  with  pictures,  nor  to  talk  of  what  I  don't  under- 
stand; but  it  is  extremely  agreeable  to  me  to  see  paint- 
ings with  those  who  have  excellent  taste  and  no  affecta- 
tion. At  the  Ecole  Centrale  was  a  smart  little  librarian, 
to  whom  we  were  obliged  for  getting  the  doors  of  the 
cathedral  opened  to  us  at  night :  we  went  in  by  moon- 
light, the  appearance  was  sublime;  lights  burning  on 
the  altar  veiled  from  sight,  and  our  own  monstrous 
shadows  cast  on  the  pillars,  added  to  the  effect.  The 
verger  took  one  of  the  tall  candles  to  light  us  to  some 
monuments  in  white  marble  of  exquisite  sculpture. 
There  were  no  pictures,  but  the  walls  were  painted  in 
the  manner  of  the  Speaker's  room  at  the  Temple,  and 
by  the  master  who  taught  De  Gray.  This  kind  of 


1802]  TO  MISS   CHARLOTTE   SNEYD  95 

painting  seems  to  suit  churches,  and  to  harmonize  well 
with  sculpture  and  statues. 

My  dear  friend,  I  have  not  room  to  say  half  I  in- 
tended, but  let  me  make  what  resolutions  I  please,  I 
never  can  get  all  I  want  to  say  to  you  into  a  letter. 

TO    MISS    CHARLOTTE    SNEYD. 

CHANTILLT,  October  29, 1802. 

I  last  night  sent  a  folio  sheet  to  Sophy,  giving  the 
history  of  ourselves  as  far  as  Brussels,  where  we  spent 
four  days  very  much  to  our  satisfaction;  it  is  full  of 
fine  buildings,  charming  public  walks,  the  country  about 
it  beautiful.  In  the  Place  Royale  are  two  excellent 
hotels,  Hotel  d'Angleterre  and  Hotel  de  Flandres,  to 
which  we  went,  and  found  that  Mr.  Chenevix  and  Mr. 
Knox  were  in  the  othef. 

My  father  thought  it  would  be  advantageous  to  us  to 
see  inferior  pictures  before  seeing  those  of  the  best  mas- 
ters, that  we  might  have  some  points  of  comparison; 
and  upon  the  same  principle  we  went  to  two  provincial 
theatres  at  Dunkirk  and  Brussels:  but  unluckily,  I 
mean  unluckily  for  our  principles,  we  saw  at  Brussels 
two  of  the  best  Paris  actors,  M.  and  Madame  Talma. 
The  play  was  B&cine's  "  Andromaque  "  (imitated  in 
England  as  the  "Distressed  Mother").  Madame  Talma 
played  •  Andromaque,  and  her  husband  Orestes :  both 
exquisitely  well.  I  had  no  idea  of  fine  acting  till  I  saw 
them,  and  my  father,  who  had  seen  Garrick,  and  Mrs. 
Siddons,  and  Yates,  and  Le  Kain,  says  he  never  saw 
anything  superior  to  Madame  Talma.  We  read  the 
play  in  the  morning,  an  excellent  precaution,  otherwise 
the  novelty  of  the  French  mode  of  declamation  would 


96  MAEIA   EDGEWOETH  [OCT. 

have  set  my  comprehension  at  defiance.  There  was  a 
ranting  Hermione,  who  had  a  string  too  tight  round  her 
waist,  which  made  her  bosom  heave  like  the  bellows  of 
a  bagpipe  whenever  she  worked  with  her  clasped  hands 
against  her  heart  to  pump  out  something  like  passion. 
There  was  also  a  wretched  Pyrrhus,  and  an  old  Phoenix, 
whose  gray  wig  I  expected  every  moment  to  fall  off. 

Next  to  this  beautiful  tragedy,  the  thing  that  inter- 
ested and  amused  me  most  at  Brussels  were  the  dogs; 
not  lap-dogs,  but  the  dogs  that  draw  carts  and  heavy 
hampers.  Every  day  I  beheld  numbers  of  these  trai- 
neaux,  often  four,  harnessed  abreast,  and  driven  like 
horses.  I  remember  in  particular  seeing  a  man  standing 
upright  on  one  of  these  little  carriages,  and  behind  him 
two  large  hampers  full  of  mussels,  the  whole  drawn  by 
four  dogs.  And  another  day  I  saw  a  boy  of  about  ten 
years  old  driving  four  dogs  harnessed  to  a  little  carriage ; 
he  crossed  our  carriage  as  we  were  going  down  a  street 
called  La  Montagne  de  la  Cour,  without  fearing  our  four 
Flemish  horses.  La  Montagne  de  la  Cour  is  a  very 
grand  name,  and  you  may  perhaps  imagine  that  it  means 
a  mountain,  but  be  it  known  to  you,  my  dear  aunt,  that 
in  Le  Pays  Bas,  as  well  as  in  the  County  of  Longford, 
they  make  mountains  of  molehills.  The  whole  road 
from  Calais  to  Ghent  is  as  flat  and  as  straight  as  the 
road  to  Longford.  We  never  knew  when  we  came  to 
what  the  innkeeper  and  postilions  call  mountains,  ex- 
cept by  the  postilions  getting  off  their  horses  with  great 
deliberation  and  making  them  go  a  snail's  walk  —  a 
snail's  gallop  would  be  much  too  fast.  Now  it  is  no 
easy  thing  for  a  French  postilion  to  walk  himself  when 
he  is  in  his  boots;  these  boots  are  each  as  large  and  as 


1802]  TO  MISS   CHARLOTTE   SNEYD  97 

stiff  as  a  wooden  churn,  and  when  the  man  in  his  boots 
attempts  to  walk,  he  is  more  helpless  than  a  child  in  a 
go-cart:  he  waddles  on,  dragging  his  boots  after  him  in 
a  way  that  would  make  a  pig  laugh.  As  Lord  Granard 
says,  "A  pig  can  whistle,  though  he  has  a  bad  mouth 
for  it, " l  I  presume  that  by  a  parity  of  reasoning  a  pig 
may  laugh.  But  I  must  not  talk  any  more  nonsense. 

We  left  Brussels  last  Sunday  (you  are  looking  in  your 
pocket-book,  dear  Aunt  Mary,  for  the  day  of  the  month; 
I  see  you  looking).  The  first  place  of  any  note  we 
went  to  was  Valenciennes,  where  we  saw  houses  and 
churches  in  ruins,  the  effect  of  English  wars  and  Trench 
revolutions.  Though  Valenciennes  lace  is  very  pretty 
we  bought  none,  recollecting  that  though  Coventry  is 
famous  for  ribbons,  and  Tewkesbury  for  stockings,  yet 
only  the  worst  ribbons  and  the  worst  stockings  are  to 
be  had  at  Coventry  and  Tewkesbury.  Besides,  we  are 
not  expert  at  counting  Flemish  money,  which  is  quite 
different  from  French,  and  puzzling  enough  to  drive  the 
seven  sages  of  Greece  mad.  Even  the  natives  cannot 
count  it  without  rubbing  their  foreheads,  and  counting 
in  their  hands,  and  repeating  c'a  fait,  cela  fait.  For 
my  part  I  fairly  gave  the  point  up,  and  resolved  to  be 
cheated  rather  than  go  distracted.  But  indeed  the 
Flemish  are  not  cheats,  as  far  as  I  have  seen  of  them. 
They  would  go  to  the  utmost  borders  of  honesty  for  a 
couronne  de  Brabant,  or  a  demi-couronne,  or  a  double 
escalin,  or  a  single  escalin,  or  a  plaquet,  or  a  livre,  or  a 
sous,  or  a  liard,  or  for  any  the  vilest  denomination  of 

l  A  long  argument  on  genius  and  education,  between  Lady  Moira  and 
Mr.  Edgewortb,  had  been  ended  by  Lord  Granard  wittily  saying,  "A 
pig  may  be  made  to  whistle,  but  he  has  a  bad  mouth  for  it." 


98  MARIA  EDGEWOETH  [OcT. 

their  absurd  coin,  yet  I  do  not  believe  they  would  go 
beyond  the  bounds  of  honesty  with  any  but  an  English 
Milor;  they  are  privileged  dupes.  A  maid  at  the  hotel 
at  Dunkirk  said  to  me,  "Ah!  Madame,  nous  autres 
nous  aimons  bien  de  voir  rouler  les  Anglais."  Yes, 
because  they  think  the  English  roll  in  gold. 

Now  we  will  go  to  Cambray,  famous  for  its  cambric 
and  its  archbishop.  Buonaparte  had  so  much  respect  for 
the  memory  of  Fe'nelon,  that  he  fixed  the  seat  of  the 
present  Archbishopric  at  Cambray  instead  of  at  Lille,  as 
had  been  proposed.  We  saw  Fdnelon's  head  here,  pre- 
served in  a  church.  But  to  return  from  archbishops  to 
cambrics.  Our  hostess  at  Cambray  was  a  dealer  in 
cambrics,  and  in  her  bale  of  baptistes  she  seemed  liter- 
ally to  have  her  being.  She  was,  in  spite  of  cambric 
and  Valenciennes  lace,  —  of  which  she  had  a  dirty  super- 
fluity on  her  cap  lined  with  pink,  —  the  very  ugliest  of 
the  female  species  I  had  ever  beheld.  We  were  made 
amends  for  her  by  a  most  agreeable  family  who  kept  the 
inn  at  Koye:  their  ancestors  had  kept  this  inn  for  a 
hundred  and  fifty  years;  the  present  landlord  and  his 
wife  are  about  sixty-eight  and  sixty,  and  their  daughter, 
about  twenty,  of  a  slight  figure,  vast  vivacity  in  her 
mind  and  in  all  her  motions;  she  does  almost  all  the 
business  of  the  house,  and  seems  to  love  papa  et 
maman  better  than  anything  in  the  world,  except  talk- 
ing. My  father  formed  a  hundred  good  wishes  for  her, 
—  first,  when  he  heard  her  tell  a  story,  she  used  such 
admirable  variety  of  action,  that  he  wished  her  on  the 
stage;  then,  when  she  waited  at  supper,  with  all  the 
nimbleness  and  dexterity  of  a  female  harlequin,  he 
wished  that  she  was  married  to  Jack  Langan,  that  she 


1802]  TO  MISS   CHARLOTTE   SNEYD  99 

might  keep  the  new  inn  at  Edgeworthstown ;  but  his 
last  and  best  wish  for  her  was  that  she  should  be  wait- 
ing-maid to  you  and  Aunt  Mary.  He  thought  she 
would  please  you  both  particularly;  for  my  part,  I 
thought  she  would  talk  a  great  deal  too  much  for  you. 
However,  her  father  and  mother  would  not  part  with 
her  for  Pitt's  diamond. 

We  saw  to-day  the  residence  of  the  Prince  de  Condd, 
and  of  a  long  line  of  princes  famous  for  virtue  and  tal- 
ents—  the  celebrated  palace  of  Chantilly,  made  still 
more  interesting  to  us  by  having  just  read  the  beautiful 
tale  by  Madame  de  Genlis,  "Mademoiselle  de  Cler- 
mont ; "  it  would  delight  my  dear  Aunt  Mary,  it  is  to 
be  had  in  the  first  volume  of  the  "Petits  Romans,"  and 
those  are  to  be  found  by  Darcy,  if  he  be  not  drunk,  at 
Archer's,  Dublin.  After  going  for  an  hour  and  a  half 
through  thick,  dark  forest,  in  which  Virginia  might 
have  lived  secure  from  sight  of  mortal  man,  we  came 
into  open  day  and  open  country,  and  from  the  top  of  a 
hill  beheld  a  mass  of  magnificent  building,  shaded  by 
wood.  I  imagined  this  was  the  palace,  but  I  was  told 
that  these  buildings  were  only  the  stables  of  Chantilly. 
The  palace,  alas!  is  no  more!  it  was  pulled  down  by 
the  Revolutionists.  The  stables  were  saved  by  a  peti- 
tion from  the  War  Minister,  stating  that  they  would 
make  stabling  for  troops,  and  to  this  use  they  are  now 
applied.  As  we  drove  down  the  hill  we  saw  the  melan- 
choly remains  of  the  palace:  only  the  white  arches  on 
which  it  was  built,  covered  with  crumbled  stone  and 
mortar.  We  walked  to  look  at  the  riding-house,  built 
by  the  Prince  de  Condd,  a  princely  edifice !  Whilst  we 
were  looking  at  it,  we  heard  a  flute  played  near  us,  and 


100  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [Oct. 

we  were  told  that  the  young  man  who  played  it  was  one 
of  the  poor  Prince  de  Condd's  chasseurs.  The  person 
who  showed  the  ruins  to  us  was  a  melancholy-looking 
man,  who  had  been  employed  his  whole  life  to  show 
the  gardens  and  palace  of  Chantilly:  he  is  about  sixty, 
and  had  saved  some  hundred  pounds  in  the  Prince's 
service.  He  now  shows  their  ruins,  and  tells  where 
the  Prince  and  Princess  once  slept,  and  where  there 
were  fine  statues,  and  charming  walks. 

We  have  had  but  one  day's  rain  since  we  left  you; 
if  we  had  picked  the  weather  we  could  not  have  had 
finer.  The  country  through  which  we  came  from  Brus- 
sels was  for  the  most  part  beautiful,  planted  in  side- 
scenes,  after  my  father's  manner,  you  know.  The 
English  who  can  see  nothing  worth  seeing  in  this  coun- 
try must  certainly  pass  through  it  with  huge  blinkers 
of  prejudice. 

PARIS,  Wednesday. 

We  arrived  about  three  o'clock,  and  are  lodged  for  a 
few  days  at  the  Hotel  de  Courland.  I  forgot  to  tell 
you  that  we  saw  an  officer  with  furred  waistcoat,  and 
furred  pockets,  and  monstrous  moustache;  he  looked 
altogether  very  like  the  Little  Gibbon  in  Shaw's  "  Zo- 
ology, "  only  the  Little  Gibbon  does  not  look  as  conceited 
as  this  man  did. 

We  are  now,  my  dear  Aunt  Mary,  in  a  magnificent 
hotel  in  the  fine  square,  formerly  Place  Louis  Quinze, 
afterwards  Place  de  la  Revolution,  and  now  Place  de  la 
Concorde.  Here  the  guillotine  was  once  at  work  night 
and  day ;  and  here  died  Louis  Seize,  and  Marie  Antoi- 
nette, and  Madame  Roland:  opposite  to  us  is  the  Seine 


1802]  TO   MISS   MARY   SNEYD  101 

• 

and  La  Lanteme.     On  one  side  of  this  square  are  the 
Champs  Elysees. 

TO    MISS    MARY    SNEYD. 

PARIS,  RUE  DE  LILLE,  October  31, 1802. 
I  left  off  at  the  Hotel  de  Courlande'.  We  were  told 
there  was  a  fine  view  of  Paris  from  the  leads;  and  so 
indeed  there  is,  and  the  first  object  that  struck  us  was 
the  Telegraph  at  work!  The  first  voiture  de  remise 
(job-coach  in  plain  English)  into  which  we  got,  belonged 
to  —  whom  do  you  think  1  —  to  the  Princess  Elizabeth. 
The  Abbd  Edgeworth  had  probably  been  in  this  very 
coach  with  her.  The  master  of  this  house  was  one  of 
the  King's  guards,  a  Swiss.  Our  apartments  are  all  on 
one  floor.  The  day  after  our  arrival  M.  Delessert,  he 
whom  M.  Pictet  describes  as  a  French  Rumford,  invited 
us  to  spend  the  evening  with  his  mother  and  sister. 
We  went:  found  an  excellent  house,  a  charming  family, 
with  whom  we  felt  we  were  perfectly  acquainted  after 
we  had  been  in  the  room  with  them  for  five  minutes. 
Madame  Delessert,1  the  mother,  an  elderly  lady  of  about 
sixty,  has  the  species  of  politeness  and  conversation  that 
my  Aunt  Ruxton  has :  I  need  not  say  how  much  I  like 
her.  Her  daughter,  Madame  Gautier,  has  fine  large 
black  eyes,  very  obliging  and  sensible,  well  dressed,  not 
at  all  naked;  people  need  not  be  naked  here  unless  they 
choose  it.  Rousseau's  "Letters  on  Botany"  were  writ- 
ten for  this  lady ;  he  was  a  friend  of  the  family.  She 
has  two  fine  children  of  eight  and  ten,  to  whose  educa- 
tion she  devotes  her  time  and  talents.  Her  second 

1  The  benevolence  of  the  generous  Madame  Delessert  is  said  to  be 
depicted  in  one  of  the  stories  of  Berquin's  Ami  des  Enfana. 


102  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Ocx. 

brother,  Francois  Delessert,  about  twenty,  was  educated 
chiefly  by  her,  and  does  her  great  credit,  and  what  is 
better  for  her,  is  extremely  fond  of  her:  he  seems  the 
darling  of  his  mother;  Francois  mon  fils  she  calls  him 
every  minute.  In  his  countenance  and  manners  he  is 
something  like  Henry;  he  has  that  sober  kind  of  cheer- 
fulness, that  ingenuous  openness,  and  that  modest,  gen- 
tlemanlike ease  which  pleases  without  effort,  and  with- 
out bustle.  Madame  Gautier  does  not  live  at  Paris, 
but  at  a  country  house  at  Passy,  the  Richmond  of  Paris, 
about  two  miles  out  of  town.  She  invited  us  to  spend 
a  day  there,  and  a  most  pleasant  day  we  passed.  The 
situation  beautiful,  the  house  furnished  with  elegance 
and  good  sense,  the  society  most  agreeable.  M.  Deles- 
sert, pere,  an  old  sensible  man,  the  rest  of  the  family, 
and  Madame  de  Pastoret,1  a  literary  and  fashionable 
lady,  with  something  of  Mrs.  Saunderson's  best  style  of 
conversation:  M.  de  Pastoret,  her  husband,  a  man  of 
diplomatic  knowledge;  Lord  Henry  Petty,  son  of  Lord 
Lansdowne,  with  whom  my  father  had  much  conversa- 
tion; the  Swiss  Ambassador,  whose  name  I  will  not 
attempt  to  spell;  M.  Dumont,2  a  Swiss  gentleman,  trav- 
eling with  Lord  Henry  Petty,  very  sensible  and  enter- 
taining, I  am  sorry  that  he  has  since  left  Paris;  M. 
d'Etaing,  of  whom  I  know  nothing;  and  last,  but  indeed 
not  least,  the  Abbe'  Morellet,3  of  whom  you  have  heard 

1  Madame  de  Pastoret  is  the  "Madame  de  Fleury"  of  Miss  Edge- 
worth's  story.    She  first  established  infant  schools  in  France. 

2  M.  Pierre  Etienne  Louis  Dumont,  tutor  to  Lord  Henry  Petty,  had 
translated  Bentham's  Traites  tur  la  legislation,  and  Theorie  des  peines 
et  des  recompenses. 

8  The  author  of  several  works  on  political  economy  and  statistics ; 
born  1727,  died  1819. 


1802]  TO   MISS  MARY   SNEYD  103 

my  father  speak.  Oh,  my  dear  Aunt  Mary,  how  you 
would  love  that  man,  and  we  need  not  be  afraid  of  lov- 
ing him,  for  he  is  near  eighty.  But  it  is  impossible  to 
believe  that  he  is  so  old  when  one  either  hears  him 
speak,  or  sees  him  move.  He  has  all  the  vivacity,  and 
feeling,  and  wit  of  youth,  and  all  the  gentleness  that 
youth  ought  to  have.  His  conversation  is  delightful, 
nothing  too  much  or  too  little;  sense,  and  gayety,  and 
learning,  and  reason,  and  that  perfect  knowledge  of  the 
world  which  mixes  so  well  but  so  seldom  with  a  know- 
ledge of  books.  He  invited  us  to  breakfast,  and  this 
morning  we  spent  with  him.  My  dearest  Aunt  Mary, 
I  do  wish  you  had  been  with  us;  I  know  that  you 
would  have  been  so  much  pleased.  The  house  so  con- 
venient, so  comfortable,  so  many  inventions  the  same  as 
my  father's.  He  has  a  sister  living  with  him,  Madame 
de  Montigny,  an  amiable,  sensible  woman:  her  daughter 
was  married  to  Marmontel,  who  died  a  few  years  ago: 
she,  alas!  is  not  at  Paris. 

My  father  did  not  present  any  of  his  letters  of  intro- 
duction till  yesterday,  because  he  wished  that  we  should 
be  masters  and  mistresses  of  our  own  time  to  see  sights 
before  we  saw  people.  We  have  been  to  Versailles  — 
melancholy  magnificence  —  La  petite  Trianon:  the  poor 
Queen!  and  at  the  Louvre,  or  as  it  is  now  called,  La 
Musde,  to  see  the  celebrated  gallery  of  pictures.  I  was 
entertained,  but  tired  with  seeing  so  many  pictures,  all 
to  be  admired,  and  all  in  so  bad  a  light,  that  my  little 
neck  was  almost  broken,  and  my  little  eyes  almost 
strained  out,  trying  to  see  them.  We  were  all  ex- 
tremely interested  yesterday  seeing  what  are  called  Les 
Monuments  Fran9ais —  all  the  statues  and  monuments 


104  .MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [Nov. 

of  the  great  men  of  France,  arranged  according  to  their 
dates  in  the  apartments  of  the  ancient  Monastery  des 
Augustins.  Here  we  saw  old  Hugh  Capet,  with  his 
nose  broken,  and  King  Pepin,  with  his  nose  flattened 
by  time,  and  Catherine  de  Mddicis,  in  full  dress,  but 
not  in  full  beauty,  and  Francis  I.,  and  dear  Henry  IV. 

We  have  been  to  the  Theatre  Fran£ais  and  to  the 
Thdatre  Feydau,  both  fine  houses,  decorations,  etc., 
superior  to  English;  acting  much  superior  in  comedy; 
in  tragedy  they  bully,  and  rant,  and  throw  themselves 
into  Academy  attitudes  too  much. 

B.    L.    EDGEWOKTH    TO    MISS    CHARLOTTE    SNEYD. 

PAKIS,  November  18, 1802. 

Maria  told  you  of  M.  and  Madame  de  Pastoret;  in 
the  same  house  on  another  floor  —  for  different  families 
here  have  entire  "apartments,"  you  observe  the  word, 
in  one  house  —  we  met  M.  and  Madame  Suard :  *  he  is 
accounted  one  of  the  most  refined  critics  of  Paris,  and 
has  for  many  years  been  at  the  head  of  newspapers  of 
different  denominations;  at  present  he  is  at  the  head  of 
"La  Publiciste."  He  is  prudent,  highly  informed,  not 
only  in  books,  but  in  the  politics  of  different  states  and 
the  characters  of  men  in  all  the  different  countries  of 
Europe.  Madame  Suard  has  the  remains  of  much 
beauty,  a  belle  esprit,  and  aims  at  singularity  and  inde- 
pendence of  sentiment.  Would  you  believe  it,  Mr. 
Day  paid  his  court  to  her  thirty  years  ago?  She  is 
very  civil  to  us,  and  we  go  to  their  house  once  a  week: 
literati  frequent  it,  and  to  each  of  them  she  has  some- 
thing to  say. 

i  M.  Suard  was  editor  of  the  Publiciste. 


1802]  R.  L.   EDGE  WORTH  TO  MISS   SNEYD  105 

At  Madame  de  Pastoret's  we  met  M.  Degerando1 
and  M.  Camille  Jordan.  Not  Camille  de  Jourdan,  the 
assassin,  nor  Camille  Desmoulins,  another  assassin,  nor 
General  Jourdan,  another  assassin,  but  a  young  man  of 
agreeable  manners,  gentle  disposition,  and  much  infor- 
mation; he  lives  near  Paris,  with  his  Py lades  Dege- 
rando, who  is  also  a  man  of  much  information,  married 
to  a  pretty  sprightly  domestic  woman,  who  nurses  her 
child  in  earnest.  Camille  Jordan  has  written  an  admir- 
ably eloquent  pamphlet  on  the  choice  of  Buonaparte  as 
first  consul  for  life;  it  was  at  first  forbidden,  but  the 
Government  wisely  recollected  that  to  forbid  is  to  excite 
curiosity.  "We  three  have  had  profound  metaphysical 
conferences  in  which  we  have  avoided  contest  and  have 
generally  ended  by  being  of  the  same  opinion.  We 
went,  by  appointment,  to  Madame  Campan's  —  she 
keeps  the  greatest  boarding-school  in  France  —  to  meet 
Madame  Re'camier,  the  beautiful  lady  who  had  been 
nearly  squeezed  to  death  in  London.  How  we  liked 
the  school  and  its  conductress,  who  professes  to  follow 
"Practical  Education,"  I  leave  to  Maria  to  tell  you. 
How  we  like  Madame  Re'camier  is  easily  told;  she  is 
certainly  handsome,  but  there  is  nothing  noble  in  her 
appearance;  she  was  very  civil.  M.  de  Prony,2  who 
is  at  the  head  of  the  Ingdnieurs  des  Ponts  et  Chaussdes 
—  civil  engineers  —  was  introduced  to  us  by  Mr.  Watt. 
I  forgot  to  speak  of  him;  he  has  just  left  Paris.  M. 
de  Prony  showed  us  models  and  machines  which  would 
have  delighted  William.  M.  L'Abbd  Morellet's  niece 

1  Marie  Joseph  Degerando,  writer  on  education  and  philosophy,  1772- 
1842. 

2  Gaspare!  Clair  Francois  Marie  Riche,  Baron  de  Prony,  the  great 
mathematician,  1755-1839. 


106  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [Nor. 

next  engaged  our  attention ;  she  and  her  husband  came 
many  leagues  to  see  us;  and  we  met  also  Madame  de 
Vergennes,  Madame  Kdmusat,  and  Madame  Nansoutit, 
all  people  of  knowledge  and  charming  manners.  Madame 
Lavoisier  and  the  Countess  Massulski,  General  Kos- 
ciusko,  Prince  Jablounski,  and  Princess  Jahlounska, 
and  two  other  Princesses,  I  leave  to  Maria.  Mons. 
Edelcrantz,  private  secretary  to  the  King  of  Sweden; 
Mons.  Eisenman,  a  German;  Mons.  Geofrat,  the  guar- 
dian from  Egypt  of  the  Kings  of  Chaldea  and  seven 
Ibises ;  Mons.  de  Montmorenci  —  that  great  name ;  the 
Abbe"  Sicard,  who  dines  here  to-morrow;  Mons.  Pang, 
Mons.  Bertrant,  Mons.  Milan,  Mons.  Dupont,  Mons. 
Bareuil  the  illuminati  man,  and  Mr.  Bilsbury,  I  leave 
to  her  and  Charlotte. 

MKS.    EDGEWORTH    TO    MISS    SNEYD. 

PARIS,  November  21, 1802. 

Mr.  Edgeworth's  summary  of  events  closed,  I  believe, 
last  Thursday.  Friday  we  saw  beauty,  riches,  fashion, 
luxury,  and  numbers  at  Madame  Ee'camier's;  she  is  a 
charming  woman,  surrounded  by  a  group  of  adorers  and 
flatterers  in  a  room  where  are  united  wealth  and  taste, 
all  of  modern  execution  and  ancient  design  that  can 
contribute  to  its  ornament  —  a  strange  melange  of  mer- 
chants and  poets,  philosophers  and  parvenus  —  English, 
French,  Portuguese,  and  Brazilian,  which  formed  the 
company ;  we  were  treated  with  distinguished  politeness 
by  our  hostess,  who  concluded  the  evening  by  taking  us 
to  her  box  at  the  Opera,  where,  besides  being  in  com- 
pany with  the  most  fashionable  women  in  Paris,  we 
were  seen  by  Buonaparte  himself,  who  sat  opposite  to  us 


1802]  MRS.   EDGE  WORTH   TO   MISS   SNEYD  107 

in  a  railed  box,  through  which  he  could  see,  but  not 
be  seen. 

Saturday  we  saw  the  magnificent  Salle  of  the  Corps 
Ldgislatif,  and  in  the  evening  passed  some  hours  in 
the  agreeable  society  of  Madame  de  Vergennes  and 
her  daughters.  Sunday  we  were  very  happy  at  home. 
Monday  morning,  just  as  we  were  going  out,  M.  Pictet 
was  announced;  we  neither  heard  his  name  nor  dis- 
tinctly recollected  his  looks,  he  is  grown  so  fat  and 
looks  so  well  —  more  friendly  no  man  can  be.  I  hope 
he  perceives  we  are  grateful  to  him.  The  remainder  of 
that  day  was  spent  in  the  gallery  of  pictures,  where  we 
met  Mr.  Rogers,  the  poet,  and  Mr.  Abercrombie.  The 
evening  was  spent  with  M.  Pictet  at  his  sister's,  an 
agreeable,  well-informed  widow,  with  three  handsome 
daughters.  Tuesday  we  went  to  the  National  Library, 
where  we  were  shown  a  large  number  of  the  finest 
cameos,  intaglios,  and  Roman  and  Greek  medals,  and 
many  of  the  antiquities  brought  from  Egypt;  and  in 
the  evening  we  had  again  the  pleasure  of  M.  Pictet's 
company,  and  of  the  charming  Madame  de  Pastoret, 
who  was  so  obliging  as  to  drink  tea  with  us.  Yester- 
day we  had  the  pleasure  of  being  at  home,  when  several 
learned  and  ingenious  men  called  on  us,  and  conse- 
quently heard  one  of  the  most  lively  and  instructive 
conversations  on  a  variety  of  topics  for  three  hours;  as 
I  think  it  is  Mr.  Edgeworth's  plan  to  knock  you  down 
with  names,  I  will  just  enumerate  those  of  our  visitors : 
Edelcrantz,  a  Swede,  Molard,  Eisenman,  Dupont,  and 
Pictet  the  younger.  After  they  went,  we  paid  a  short 
visit  to  the  pictures  and  saw  the  Salle  du  Tribunat  and 
the  Consul's  apartments  at  the  Tuileries:  on  the  dress- 


108  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Nov. 

ing-table  there  were  the  busts  of  Fox  and  Nelson.  At 
our  return  home  we  saw  the  good  Fra^ois  Delessert 
and  another  man,  who  was  the  man  who  took  Robes- 
pierre prisoner,  and  who  has  since  made  a  clock  which 
is  wound  up  by  the  action  of  the  air  on  mercury,  like 
that  which  Mr.  Edgeworth  invented  for  the  King  of 
Spain.  He  told  us  many  things  that  made  us  stare, 
and  many  that  made  us  shiver,  and  many  more  that 
made  us  never  wish  to  see  him  again. 

In  the  evening  we  went  to  Madame  Suard's.  Don't 
imagine  that  these  ladies  are  all  widows,  for  they  have 
husbands,  and  in  many  instances  the  husband  vaut 
mieux  que  la  femme.  At  Madame  Suard's  we  met  the 
famous  Count  Lally  Tolendal  and  the  Due  de  Crillon. 
This  morning  Maria  has  gone  with  the  Pictets  to  see 
the  Abbe*  Sicard's  deaf  and  dumb. 

Mr.  Edgeworth  has  not  yet  seen  Buonaparte;  he  goes 
to-morrow  to  wait  on  Lord  Whitworth  as  a  preliminary 
step.  It  is  a  singular  circumstance  that  Lord  Whit- 
worth,  the  new  Ambassador,  has  brought  to  Paris  the 
same  horses,  and  the  same  wife,  and  lives  in  the  same 
house  as  the  last  Ambassador  did  eleven  years  ago :  he 
has  married  the  widow  of  the  Duke  of  Dorset,  who  was 
here  then. 

In  England  many  are  the  tales  of  scandal  that  have 
been  related  of  the  Consul  and  all  his  family;  I  don't 
believe  them.  A  lady  told  me  it  was  "vraiment  ex- 
traordinaire qu'un  jeune  homme  comme  lui  ait  de 
moaurs  si  exemplaires  —  et  d'ailleurs  on  ne  s' attend  pas 
qu'un  homme  soit  fidele  k  une  femme  qui  est  plus  age'e 
que  lui;  mais  si  age'e  aussi!  II  aime  la  soumission 
plus  que  la  beautd:  s'il  lui  dit  de  se  coucher  a,  huit 


1802]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  109 

heures,  elle  se  couche;  s'il  faut  se  lever  k  deux  heures, 
elle  se  leve!  Elle  est  une  bonne  femme,  elle  a  saiiye* 
bien  des  vies." 

Has  Maria  told  you  that  she  has  had  her  "  Belinda  " 
translated  into  French  by  the  young  Count  de  Se'gur, 
an  amiable  young  man  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  families 
of  France,  married  to  a  granddaughter  of  the  Chancel- 
lor d'Aguesseau?  Many  people  support  themselves  by 
writing  for  journals,  and  by  translating  English  books, 
yet  the  price  of  literature  seems  very  low,  and  the  price 
of  all  the  necessaries  of  life  very  high.  The  influx  of 
English  has,  they  say,  doubled  the  price  of  lodgings  and 
of  all  luxuries. 

MARIA    TO    MKS.    KUXTON. 

PARIS,  December  1, 1802. 

I  have  been  treasuring  up  for  some  time  everything 
I  have  seen  and  heard  which  I  think  would  interest 
you;  and  now  my  little  head  is  so  full  that  I  must 
empty  it,  or  it  would  certainly  burst.  All  that  I  have 
seen  and  heard  has  tended  to  attach  me  more  firmly  to 
you  by  the  double  effect  of  resemblance  and  of  contrast., 
Every  agreeable  person  recalls  you;  every  disagreeable, 
makes  me  exclaim,  how  different,  etc. 

I  wish  I  could  paint  the  different  people  we  have 
seen  in  little  William's  magic-lantern,  and  show  them 
to  you.  At  Madame  Delessert's  house  there  are,  and 
have  been  for  years,  meetings  of  the  most  agreeable  and 
select  society  in  Paris:  she  has  the  courage  absolutely 
to  refuse  to  admit  either  man  or  woman  of  whose  con- 
duct she  cannot  approve;  at  other  houses  there  is  some- 
times a  strange  mixture.  To  recommend  Madame 


110  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [DEC. 

Delessert  still  more  powerfully  to  you,  I  must  tell  you 
that  she  was  the  benefactress  of  Rousseau;  he  was,  it  is 
said,  never  good  or  happy  except  in  her  society :  to  her 
bounty  he  owed  his  retreat  in  Switzerland.  She  is 
nobly  charitable,  but  if  it  were  not  for  her  friends  no 
one  would  find  out  half  the  good  she  does.  One  of  her 
acts  of  beneficence  is  recorded  in  Berquin's  "Ami  des 
Enfans, "  but  even  her  own  children  cannot  tell  in  which 
story  it  is.  Her  daughter,  Madame  Gautier,  gains 
upon  our  esteem  every  day. 

Turn  the  handle  of  the  magic-lantern:  who  is  this 
graceful  figure,  with  all  the  elegance  of  court  manners, 
and  all  the  simplicity  of  domestic  virtue  ?  She  is 
Madame  de  Pastoret.  She  was  chosen  preceptress  to 
the  Princess  in  the  ancien  regime  in  opposition  to  the 
wife  of  Condorcet,  and  M.  de  Pastoret  had  I  forget  how 
many  votes  more  than  Condorcet  when  it  was  put  to  the 
vote  who  should  be  preceptor  to  the  Dauphin  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Revolution.  Both  M.  and  Madame 
de  Pastoret  speak  remarkably  well,  each  with  that  spe- 
cies of  eloquence  which  becomes  them.  He  was  Pres-  • 
ident  of  the  First  Assembly,  and  at  the  head  of  the  ». 
King's  Council;  the  four  other  ministers  of  that  council 
all  perished!  He  escaped  by  his  courage.  As  for  her, 
the  Marquis  de  Chastelleux's  speech  describes  her: 
"Elle  n'a  point  d'expression  sans  grace  et  point  de 
grace  sans  expression." 

Turn  the  magic-lantern.  Here  comes  Madame  Suard 
and  Monsieur,  a  member  of  the  Academy:  very  good 
company  at  their  house.  Among  others  Lally  Tolendal, 
who  is  exceedingly  like  Father  Tom,  and  whose  real 
name  of  Mullalagh  he  softened  into  Lally,  said  to  be 


1802]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  111 

more  eloquent  than  any  man  in  France;  M.  de  Mont- 
morenci,  worthy  of  his  great  name. 

Push  on  the  magic  -  lantern  slide.  Here  comes 
Boissy  d'Anglas  —  a  fine  head!  Such  a  head  as  you 
may  imagine  the  man  to  have  who,  by  his  single  cour- 
age, restrained  the  fury  of  one  of  the  National  Assem- 
blies when  the  head  of  one  of  the  deputies  was  cut  off 
and  set  on  the  table  before  him. 

Next  comes  Camille  Jordan,  with  great  eloquence  of 
pen,  not  of  tongue ; *  and  M.  de  Prony,  a  great  mathe- 
matician, of  whom  you  don't  care  to  know  more,  but 
you  would  if  you  heard  him. 

Who  comes  next?  Madame  Campan,  mistress  of  the 
first  boarding-school  here,  who  educated  Madame  Louis 
Buonaparte,  and  who  professes  to  keep  her  pupils  entirely 
separate  from  servants,  according  to  "Practical  Educa- 
tion," and  who  paid  us  many  compliments.  Teaches 
drawing  in  a  manner  superior  to  anything  I  had  any 
idea  of  in  English  schools;  she  gave  me  a  drawing  in  a 
gilt  frame,  which  I  shall  show  to  you.  At  Madame 
Campan' s,  as  my  father  told  you,  we  met  the  beautiful 
Madame  Re'camier,  and  at  her  dinner  we  met  the  most 
fashionable  tragic  and  comic  poet,  and  the  richest  man 
in  Paris  sat  beside  Charlotte.  We  went  to  the  Opera 
with  Madame  Re'camier,  who  produces  a  great  sensation 
whenever  she  appears  in  public.  She  is  certainly  hand- 
some, very  handsome,  but  there  is  much  of  the  magic  of 
fashion  in  the  enthusiasm  she  creates. 

There  is  a  Russian  Princess  here,  who  is  always  car- 
ried in  and  out  of  her  carriage  by  two  giant  footmen, 
and  a  Russian  Prince,  who  is  so  rich  that  he  is  never 
i  Orator  and  statesman,  1771-1821. 


112  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [DEC. 

able  to  spend  his  fortune,  and  asks  advice  how  he  shall 
do  it.      He  never  thinks,  it  seems,  of  giving  it  away. 

Who  comes  next  ?  Kosciusko, 1  cured  of  his  wounds, 
simple  in  his  manners,  like  all  truly  great  men.  We 
met  him  at  the  house  of  a  Polish  Countess,  whose  name 
I  cannot  spell. 

Who  comes  next?  M.  de  Leuze,  who  translated  the 
"  Botanic  Garden  "  as  well  as  it  could  be  translated  into 
Fdnelon  prose;  and  M.  and  Madame  de  Vinde,  who 
have  a  superb  gallery  of  paintings,  and  the  best  concerts 
in  Paris,  and  a  library  of  eighteen  thousand  volumes 
well  counted  and  well  arranged;  and  what  charms  me 
more  than  either  the  books  or  the  pictures,  a  little 
granddaughter  of  three  years  old,  very  like  my  sweet 
Fanny,  with  stockings  exactly  the  same  as  those  Aunt 
Mary  knitted  for  her,  and  listing  shoes  precisely  like 
what  Fanny  used  to  wear;  she  sat  on  my  knee,  and 
caressed  me  with  her  soft,  warm  little  hands,  and  looked 
at  me  with  her  smiling  intelligent  eyes. 

December  3. 

Here  I  am  at  the  brink  of  the  last  page,  and  I  have 
said  nothing  of  the  Apollo,  the  Invalides,  or  Les  Sourds 
et  Muets.  What  shall  I  do  ?  I  cannot  speak  of  every- 
thing at  once,  and  when  I  speak  to  you  so  many  things 
crowd  upon  my  mind. 

Here,  my  dear  aunt,  I  was  interrupted  in  a  manner 
that  will  surprise  you  as  much  as  it  surprised  me,  by 
the  coming  in  of  Monsieur  Edelcrantz,  a  Swedish  gen- 
tleman, whom  we  have  mentioned  to  you,  of  superior 
understanding  and  mild  manners:  he  came  to  offer  me 
his  hand  and  heart ! ! 

i  The  Polish  patriot  and  leader,  1756-1817. 


1802]  TO  MISS  SOPHY   RUXTON  113 

My  heart,  you  may  suppose,  cannot  return  his  attach- 
ment, for  I  have  seen  but  very  little  of  him,  and  have 
not  had  time  to  have  formed  any  judgment,  except  that 
I  think  nothing  could  tempt  me  to  leave  my  own  dear 
friends  and  my  own  country  to  live  in  Sweden. 

My  dearest  aunt,  I  write  to  you  the  first  moment,  as 
next  to  my  father  and  mother  no  person  in  the  world 
feels  so  much  interest  in  all  that  concerns  me.  I  need 
not  tell  you  that  my  father  — 

Such  in  this  moment  as  in  all  the  past,  — 

is  kindness  itself;  kindness  far  superior  to  what  I  de- 
serve, but  I  am  grateful  for  it. 

TO  MISS  SOPHY  RUXTON. 
PARIS,  RUE  DE  LILLE,  No.  525,  December  8, 1802. 
I  take  it  for  granted,  my  dear  friend,  that  you  have 
by  this  time  seen  a  letter  I  wrote  a  few  days  ago  to  my 
aunt.  To  you,  as  to,  her,  every  thought  of  my  mind  is 
open.  I  persist  in  refusing  to  leave  my  country  and 
my  friends  to  live  at  the  Court  of  Stockholm,  and  he 
tells  me  (of  course)  that  there  is  nothing  he  would  not 
sacrifice  for  me  except  his  duty ;  he  has  been  all  his  life 
in  the  service  of  the  King  of  Sweden,  has  places  under 
him,  and  is  actually  employed  in  collecting  information 
for  a  large  political  establishment.  He  thinks  himself 
bound  in  honor  to  finish  what  he  has  begun.  He  says 
he  should  not  fear  the  ridicule  or  blame  that  would  be 
thrown  upon  him  by  his  countrymen  for  quitting  his 
country  at  his  age,  but  that  he  should  despise  himself  if 
he  abandoned  his  duty  for  any  passion.  This  is  all 
very  reasonable,  but  reasonable  for  him  only,  not  for 
me;  and  I  have  never  felt  anything  for  him  but  esteem 
and  gratitude. 


114  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1802 

Mrs.  Edgeworth,  however,  writes :  — 

Maria  was  mistaken  as  to  her  own  feelings.  She 
refused  M.  Edelcrantz,  but  she  felt  much  more  for  him 
than  esteem  and  admiration;  she  was  exceedingly  in 
love  with  him.  Mr.  Edgeworth  left  her  to  decide  for 
herself;  but  she  saw  too  plainly  what  it  would  be  to  us 
to  lose  her,  and  what  she  would  feel  at  parting  from  us. 
She  decided  rightly  for  her  own  future  happiness  and 
for  that  of  her  family,  but  she  suffered  much  at  the 
time  and  long  afterwards.  While  we  were  at  Paris,  I 
remember  that  in  a  shop  where  Charlotte  and  I  were 
making  some  purchases,  Maria  sat  apart  absorbed  in 
thought,  and  so  deep  in  reverie,  that  when  her  father 
came  in  and  stood  opposite  to  her  she  did  not  see  him 
till  he  spoke  to  her,  when  she  started  and  burst  into 
tears.  She  was  grieved  by  his  look  of  tender  anxiety, 
and  she  afterwards  exerted  herself  to  join  in  society, 
and  to  take  advantage  of  all  that  was  agreeable  during 
our  stay  in  France  and  on  our  journey  home,  but  it  was 
often  a  most  painful  effort  to  her.  And  even  after  her 
return  to  Edgeworthstown,  it  was  long  before  she  recov- 
ered the  elasticity  of  her  mind.  She  exerted  all  her 
powers  of  self-command,  and  turned  her  attention  to 
everything  which  her  father  suggested  for  her  to  write. 
But  "Leonora,"  which  she  began  immediately  after  our 
return  home,  was  written  with  the  hope  of  pleasing  the 
Chevalier  Edelcrantz;  it  was  written  in  a  style  which 
he  liked,  and  the  idea  of  what  he  would  think  of  it 
was,  I  believe,  present  to  her  in  every  page  she  wrote. 
She  never  heard  that  he  had  even  read  it.  From  the 
time  they  parted  at  Paris  there  was  no  sort  of  communi- 


1802]  MARIA   EDGEWORTH  115 

cation  between  them,  and  beyond  the  chance  which 
brought  us  sometimes  into  company  with  travelers  who 
had  been  in  Sweden,  or  the  casual  mention  of  M.  Edel- 
crantz  in  the  newspapers  or  scientific  journals,  we  never 
heard  more  of  one  who  had  been  of  such  supreme  inter- 
est to  her,  and  to  us  all  at  Paris,  and  of  whom  Maria 
continued  to  have  all  her  life  the  most  romantic  recol- 
lection. I  do  not  think  she  repented  of  her  refusal,  or 
regretted  her  decision;  she  was  well  aware  that  she 
could  not  have  made  him  happy,  that  she  would  not 
have  suited  his  position  at  the  Court  of  Stockholm,  and 
that  her  want  of  beauty  might  have  diminished  his 
attachment.  It  was  better  perhaps  that  she  should 
think  so,  as  it  calmed  her  mind,  but  from  what  I  saw  of 
M.  Edelcrantz  I  think  he  was  a  man  capable  of  really 
valuing  her.  I  believe  that  he  was  much  attached  to 
her,  and  deeply  mortified  at  her  refusal.  He  continued 
to  reside  in  Sweden  after  the  abdication  of  his  master, 
and  was  always  distinguished  for  his  high  character  and 
great  abilities.  He  never  married.  He  was,  except 
very  fine  eyes,  remarkably  plain.  Her  father  rallied 
Maria  about  her  preference  of  so  ugly  a  man;  but  she 
liked  the  expression  of  his  countenance,  the  spirit  and 
strength  of  his  character,  and  his  very  able  conversation. 
The  unexpected  mention  of  his  name,  or  even  that  of 
Sweden,  in  a  book  or  a  newspaper,  always  moved  her  so 
much  that  the  words  and  lines  in  the  page  became  a 
mass  of  confusion  before  her  eyes,  and  her  voice  lost  all 
power. 

I  think  it  right  to  mention  these  facts,  because  I 
know  that  the  lessons  of  self-command  which  she  incul- 
cates in  her  works  were  really  acted  upon  in  her  own 


116  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [DEC. 

life,  and  that  the  resolution  with  which  she  devoted 
herself  to  her  father  and  her  family,  and  the  industry 
with  which  she  labored  at  the  writings  which  she 
thought  were  for  the  advantage  of  her  fellow-creatures, 
were  from  the  exertion  of  the  highest  principle.  Her 
precepts  were  not  the  maxims  of  cold-hearted  prudence, 
but  the  result  of  her  own  experience  in  strong  and 
romantic  feeling.  By  what  accident  it  happened  that 
she  had,  long  before  she  ever  saw  the  Chevalier  Edel- 
crantz,  chosen  Sweden  for  the  scene  of  "The  Knap- 
sack" I  do  not  know,  but  I  remember  his  expressing 
his  admiration  of  that  beautiful  little  piece,  and  his 
pleasure  in  the  fine  characters  of  the  Swedish  gentleman 
and  peasants. 

CHARLOTTE    EDGEWORTH    TO    MISS    CHARLOTTE 
SNEYD. 

RUE  DE  LILLE,  CHEZ  LE  CITOYEN  VEKBEK, 
December  8, 1802. 

MY  DEAR  ATTNT  CHARLOTTE,  —  One  of  the  great 
objects  of  a  visit  to  Paris  was,  you  know,  to  see  Buona- 
parte; the  review  is,  as  you  see  by  the  papers,  over, 
and  my  father  has  not  spoken  to  the  great  man  —  no, 
he  did  not  wish  it.  All  of  our  distant  friends  will  be, 
I  am  afraid,  disappointed,  but  some  here  think  that  my 
father's  refusal  to  be  presented  to  him  shows  a  proper 
pride.  All  the  reasons  for  this  mode  of  conduct  will 
serve  perhaps  for  debate,  certainly  for  conversation  when 
we  return. 

Madame  Suard  says  that  those  societies  are  most 
agreeable  where  there  are  fewest  women  j  if  there  were 
not  women  superior  to  her  I  should  not  hesitate  to 


1802]      CHARLOTTE   EDGEWORTH  TO  MISS   SNEYD        117 

assent  to  her  proposition,  and  I  should  with  pleasure 
read  Madame  de  StaeTs  book  called  "Le  Malheur  d'etre 
Femme."  If,  on  the  contrary,  all  women  were  Madame 
de  Pastorets,  or  Madame  Delesserts,  or  Madame  Gau- 
tiers,  I  think  I  should  take  up  the  book  with  the  inten- 
tion not  to  be  convinced. 

Some  of  the  most  horrible  revolutionists  were  the 
most  skilled  in  the  sciences,  and  are  held  in  the  utmost 
detestation  by  numbers  of  sensible  men  who  admire  their 
ingenuity  and  talents.  We  saw  one  of  these,  a  teacher 
at  one  of  the  chief  Academies,  and  my  father,  who  was 
standing  near  him,  heard  him,  after  having  been  talking 
on  several  most  amusing  and  interesting  subjects,  give 
one  of  the  deepest  sighs  he  ever  heard. 

The  Abbd  de  Lille  reads  poetry  particularly  well,  his 
own  verses  in  a  superior  manner;  we  heard  him,  and 
were  extremely  pleased.  He  is  very  old,  and  so  blind 
that  his  wife,  whom  he  calls  "Mon  Antigone,"  is 
obliged  to  lead  him. 

As  you  may  sxippose,  we  go  as  often  as  we  can  to  the 
Gallery.  I  thank  my  dear  Aunt  Mary  for  thinking  of 
the  pleasure  I  should  have  in  seeing  the  Venus  de 
Mddicis;  she  has  not  yet  arrived,  but  I  have  seen  the 
Apollo,  who  did  surprise  me !  On  our  way  here  we 
had  seen  many  casts  of  him,  and  I  have  seen  with  you 
some  prints:  I  could  not  have  believed  that  there  could 
have  been  so  much  difference  between  a  copy  and  the 
original. 

10th.  You  see  I  am  often  interrupted.  I  will  intro- 
duce you  to  our  company  last  night  at  the  Delesserts. 
All  soire'es  here  begin  at  nine  o'clock. 

"  Madame   Edgeworth  "    is    announced  —  room    full 


118  MARIA   EDGE  WORTH  [DEC. 

without  being  crowded  —  enough  light  and  warmth. 
M.  Delessert,  pere,  at  a  card- table  with  a  gentleman 
who  is  a  partner  in  his  bank,  and  an  elderly  lady. 
There  is  a  warm  corner  in  the  room,  which  is  always 
large  enough  to  contain  Madame  Delessert  and  two  or 
three  ladies  and  gentlemen.  Madame  Delessert  advances 
to  receive  Madame  Edgeworth,  and  invites  her  to  sit 
beside  her  with  many  kind  words  and  looks.  Madame 
Gautier  expresses  her  joy  at  seeing  us.  Now  we  are 
seated.  M.  Benjamin  Delessert  advances  with  his  bow 
to  the  ladies.  Madame  Gautier,  my  father,  and  Maria 
get  together.  M.  Pictet,  nephew  to  our  dear  Pictet, 
makes  his  bow  and  adds  a  few  words  to  each.  "Made- 
moiselle Charlotte,"  says  Madame  Delessert  to  me,  "I 
was  just  speaking  of  you."  I  forget  now  what  she  had 
been  saying,  I  have  only  the  agreeable  idea.  Madame 
Grivel  enters,  a  clever,  good-natured  little  woman,  wife 
to  the  partner  who  is  at  cards.  Enter  M.  Francois 
Delessert  and  another  gentleman.  How  the  company 
divides  aad  changes  itself  I  am  not  at  present  supposed 
to  know,  for  young  M.  Pictet  has  seated  himself  be- 
tween my  mother  and  me,  and  has  a  long  conversation 
with  me,  in  which  Madame  Grivel  now  and  then  joins: 
she  is  on  the  other  side  of  me.  Mademoiselle  Lullin, 
our  friend  Pictet 's  sister,  and  his  and  her  virtues  are 
discussed.  Physics  and  metaphysics  ensue;  harmony, 
astonishing  power  of  chords  in  music,  glass  broken  by 
vibration,  dreams,  Spain,  its  manners  and  government. 
Young  M.  Pictet  has  been  there;  people  there  have 
little  to  do,  because  their  wants  are  easily  supplied. 

Here  come  tea  and  cakes,  sweetmeats,  grapes,  cream, 
and  all  the  goods  of  life.     The  lady  who  was  playing  at 


1802]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  EUXTON  119 

cards  now  came  and  sat  beside  me,  amusing  me  for  a 
long  time  with  a  conversation  on  —  what  do  you  think  1 
—  politics  and  the  state  of  France!  M.  Franqois  re- 
peats some  good  lines  very  well.  Laughter  and  merri- 
ment. Now  we  are  obliged  to  go,  and  with  much  sor- 
row we  part. 

I  see  I  never  told  you  that  we  saw  the  review,  and 
we  saw  a  man  on  a  white  horse  ride  down  the  ranks; 
we  saw  that  he  was  a  little  man  with  a  pale  face,  who 
seemed  very  attentive  to  what  he  was  about,  and  this 
was  all  we  saw  of  Buonaparte. 

MABIA    TO    MISS    SOPHY    RUXTON. 

PARIS,  December,  1802. 

I  add  to  the  list  of  remarkables  and  agreeables  the 
Count  and  Countess  de  S^gur,  father  and  mother  to  our 
well-bred  translator;1  she  a  beautiful  grandmother,  he 
a  nobleman  of  the  old  school,  who  adds  to  agreeable 
manners  a  great  deal  of  elegant  literature.  Malouet, 
the  amiable  and  able  councillor  of  the  King,  must  also 
be  added  to  your  list:  we  met  him  yesterday,  a  fine 
countenance  and  simple  manners;  he  conversed  freely 
with  my  father,  not  at  all  afraid  of  committing  himself. 
In  general  I  do  not  see  that  prodigious  fear  of  commit- 
ting themselves,  which  makes  the  company  of  some 
English  men  of  letters  and  reputation  irksome  even  to 
their  admirers.  Mr.  Palmer,  the  great  man  of  taste, 
who  has  lived  for  many  years  in  Italy,  is  here,  and  is 
very  much  provoked  that  the  French  can  now  see  all  the 
pictures  and  statues  he  has  been  admiring,  without  stir- 
ring out  of  Paris.  The  Louvre  is  now  so  crowded  with 
l  Of  Belinda. 


120  MARIA  EDGEWOETH  [DEC. 

pictures,  that  many  of  them  are  seen  to  disadvantage. 
The  Domenichino,  my  Aunt  Ruxton's  favorite,  is  not 
at  present  visible.  Several  of  the  finest  pictures  are, 
as  they  say,  sick,  and  the  physicians  are  busy  restoring 
them  to  health  and  beauty.  May  they  not  mar  instead 
of  mending!  A  Raphael  which  has  just  come  out  of 
their  hospital  has  the  eyes  of  a  very  odd  sort  of  modern 
blue.  The  Transfiguration  is  now  in  a  state  of  conva- 
lescence; it  has  not  yet  made  its  appearance  in  public, 
but  we  were  admitted  into  the  sick-room. 

Half  Paris  is  now  stark  mad  about  a  picture  by 
Gue'rin  of  Phedre  and  Hippolyte,  which  they  actually 
think  equal  to  Raphael. 

Of  the  public  buildings  Les  Invalides  appears  to  me 
the  finest;  here  are  all  the  flags  and  standards  used  in 
battle,  or  won  from  foreign  nations,  —  a  long-drawn 
aisle  of  glory  that  must  create  ambition  in  the  rising 
generation  of  military  in  France.  We  saw  here  a  little 
boy  of  nine  years  old  with  his  tutor,  looking  at  Tu- 
renne's  monument,  which  has  been  placed  with  great 
taste,  alone,  with  the  single  word  TURENNE  upon  the 
sarcophagus.  My  father  spoke  to  the  little  boy  and  his 
tutor,  who  told  him  he  had  come  to  look  at  a  picture  in 
which  the  heroic  action  of  one  of  the  boy's  ancestors  is 
portrayed.  We  went  into  the  hospital  library,  and 
found  a  circle  of  old  soldiers  sitting  round  a  stove,  all 
reading  most  comfortably.  It  was  a  very  pleasing  and 
touching  sight.  One  who  had  lost  both  his  hands,  and 
who  had  iron  hooks  at  the  end  of  his  wrists,  was  sitting 
at  a  table  reading  " Te'le'maque "  with  great  attention; 
he  turned  over  the  leaves  with  these  hooks. 

My  aunt  asks  me  what  I  think  of  French  society? 


1802]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  121 

All  I  have  seen  of  it  I  like  extremely,  but  we  hear  from 
all  sides  that  we  see  only  the  best  of  Paris,  —  the  men 
of  literature  and  the  ancienne  noblesse.  Les  nouveaux 
riches  are  quite  a  different  set.  My  father  has  seen 
something  of  them  at  Madame  Tallien's  (now  Caba- 
rus),  and  was  disgusted.  Madame  Re'camier  is  of  quite 
an  opposite  sort,  though  in  the  first  fashion,  a  graceful 
and  decent  beauty  of  excellent  character.  Madame  de 
Souza,  the  Portuguese  Ambassadress,  is  a  pretty  and 
pleasing  woman,  authoress  of  "Adele  de  Senanges," 
which  she  wrote  in  England.  Her  friends  always  pro- 
claim her  title  as  author  before  her  other  titles,  and  I 
thought  her  a  pleasing  woman  before  I  was  told  that 
she  had  pronounced  at  Madame  Lavoisier's  an  eloquent 
eulogium  on  "Belinda."  I  have  never  heard  any  per- 
son talk  of  dress  or  fashions  since  we  came  to  Paris,  and 
very  little  scandal.  A  scandalmonger  would  be  starved 
here.  The  conversation  frequently  turns  on  the  new 
petites  pieces  and  little  novels  which  come  out  every 
day,  and  are  talked  of  for  a  few  days  with  as  much 
eagerness  as  a  new  fashion  in  other  places.  They  also 
talk  a  vast  deal  about  the  little  essays  of  criticism.  In 
yesterday's  "Journal  des  Ddbats,"  after  a  naming  pane- 
gyric on  Buonaparte,  "Et  apres  avoir  parld  de  1'univers 
de  qui  peut-on  parler?  Des  plus  grandes  des  Poetes  — 
de  Kacine;"  then  follows  a  criticism  on  "Phedre." 

We  saw  the  grand  review  the  day  before  yesterday 
from  a  window  that  looked  out  on  the  court  of  the 
Louvre  and  Place  du  Carrousel.  Buonaparte  rode  down 
the  lines  on  a  fine  white  Spanish  horse.  Took  off  his 
hat  to  salute  various  generals,  and  gave  us  a  full  view 
of  his  pale,  thin,  woebegone  countenance.  He  is  very 


122  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JAN. 

little,  but  much  at  ease  on  horseback:  it  is  said  he 
never  appears  to  so  much  advantage  as  on  horseback. 
There  were  about  six  thousand  troops,  a  fine  show,  well 
appointed,  and  some,  but  not  all,  well  mounted.  On 
those  who  had  distinguished  themselves  in  the  battle  of 
Marengo  all  eyes  were  fixed.  While  I  was  looking  out 
of  the  window  a  gentleman  came  in  who  had  passed 
many  years  in  Spain;  he  began  to  talk  to  me  about 
Madrid,  and  when  he  heard  my  name,  he  said  a  Span- 
ish lady  is  translating  "  Practical  Education  "  from  the 
French.  She  understands  English,  and  he  gave  us  her 
address  that  we  may  send  a  copy  of  the  book  to  her. 

Mr.  Knox,  who  was  presented  to  Buonaparte,  and 
who  saw  all  the  wonderful  presentations,  says  that  it 
was  a  huddled  business,  all  the  world  received  in  a  very 
small  room.  Buonaparte  spoke  more  to  officers  than  to 
any  one  else,  affected  to  be  gracious  to  the  English. 
He  said,  "L'Angleterre  est  une  grande  nation,  aussi 
bien  que  la  France,  il  f  aut  que  nous  soyons  amis ! " 
Great  men's  words,  like  little  men's  dreams,  are  some- 
times to  be  interpreted  by  the  rule  of  contraries. 

TO    MISS    SNEYD. 

PARIS,  January  10, 1803. 
Siecle  reparateur,  as  Monge 
has  christened  this  century. 

I  will  give  you  a  journal  of  yesterday  —  I  know  you 
love  journals.  Got  up  and  put  on  our  shoes  and  stock- 
ings and  cambric  muslin  gowns,  which  are  in  high 
esteem  here,  fur-tippets  and  fur-clogs,  —  God  bless 
Aunt  Mary  and  Aunt  Charlotte  for  them,  —  and  were 
in  coach  by  nine  o'clock;  drove  to  the  excellent  Abbe* 


1803]  TO  MISS   SNEYD  123 

Morellet's,  where  we  were  invited  to  breakfast  to  meet 
Madame  d'Ouditot,  the  lady  who  inspired  Rousseau 
with  the  idea  of  Julie.  Julie  is  now  seventy-two  years 
of  age,  a  thin  woman  in  a  little  black  bonnet:  she 
appeared  to  me  shockingly  ugly;  she  squints  so  much 
that  it  is  impossible  to  tell  which  way  she  is  looking; 
but  no  sooner  did  I  hear  her  speak,  than  I  began  to 
like  her;  and  no  sooner  was  I  seated  beside  her,  than  I 
began  to  find  in  her  countenance  a  most  benevolent  and 
agreeable  expression.  She  entered  into  conversation 
immediately:  her  manner  invited  and  could  not  fail  to 
obtain  confidence.  She  seems  as  gay  and  open-hearted 
as  a  girl  of  fifteen.  It  has  been  said  of  her  that  she 
not  only  never  did  any  harm,  but  never  suspected  any. 
She  is  possessed  of  that  art  which  Lord  Kames  said  he 
would  prefer  to  the  finest  gift  from  the  queen  of  the 
fairies,  — the  art  of  seizing  the  best  side  of  every  object. 
She  has  had  great  misfortunes,  but  she  has  still  retained 
the  power  of  making  herself  and  her  friends  happy. 
Even  during  the  horrors  of  the  Revolution,  if  she  met 
with  a  flower,  a  butterfly,  an  agreeable  smell,  a  pretty 
color,  she  would  turn  her  attention  to  these,  and  for  the 
moment  suspend  her  sense  of  misery,  not  from  frivolity, 
but  from  real  philosophy.  No  one  has  exerted  them- 
selves with  more  energy  in  the  service  of  her  friends. 
I  felt  in  her  company  the  delightful  influence  of  a  cheer- 
ful temper,  and  soft,  attractive  manners,  — enthusiasm 
which  age  cannot  extinguish,  and  which  spends  but  does 
not  waste  itself  on  small  but  not  trifling  objects.  I 
wish  I  could  at  seventy-two  be  such  a  woman!  She 
told  me  that  Rousseau,  whilst  he  was  writing  so  finely 
on  education,  and  leaving  his  own  children  in  the 


124  MAKIA  EDGEWOETH  [JAW. 

Foundling  Hospital,  defended  himself  with  so  much 
eloquence  that  even  those  who  blamed  him  in  their 
hearts  could  not  find  tongues  to  answer  him.  Once  at 
dinner,  at  Madame  d'Ouditot's,  there  was  a  fine  pyra- 
mid of  fruit.  Rousseau  in  helping  himself  took  the 
peach  which  formed  the  base  of  the  pyramid,  and  the 
rest  fell  immediately.  "Rousseau,"  said  she,  "that  is 
what  you  always  do  with  all  our  systems;  you  pull 
down  with  a  single  touch,  but  who  will  build  up  what 
you  pull  down  ? "  I  asked  if  he  was  grateful  for  all  the 
kindness  shown  to  him.  "No,  he  was  ungrateful;  he 
had  a  thousand  bad  qualities,  but  I  turned  my  attention 
from  them  to  his  genius  and  the  good  he  had  done  man- 
kind." 

After  an  excellent  breakfast,  including  tea,  chocolate, 
coffee,  buttered  and  unbuttered  cakes,  good  conversation, 
and  good  humor,  came  M.  Che'ron,  husband  of  the  Abbd 
Morellet's  niece,  who  is  translating  "Early  Lessons," 
French  on  one  side  and  English  on  the  other.  Didot 
has  undertaken  to  publish  the  "Rational  Primer," 
which  is  much  approved  of  here  for  teaching  the  true 
English  pronunciation. 

Then  we  went  to  a  lecture  on  Shorthand,  or  Passi- 
graphy,  and  there  we  met  Mr.  Chenevix,  who  came 
home  to  dine  with  us,  and  stayed  till  nine,  talking  of 
Montgolfier's  belier  for  throwing  water  to  a  great  height. 
We  have  seen  it  and  its  inventor;  something  like  Mr. 
Watt  in  manner,  not  equal  to  him  in  genius.  He  had 
received  from  M.  de  la  Poype  a  letter  my  father  wrote 
some  years  ago  about  the  method  of  guiding  balloons, 
and  as  far  as  he  could  judge  he  thought  it  might  suc- 
ceed. 


1803]  TO  MISS  SNEYD  125 

We  went  with  Madame  Re'camier  and  the  Russian 
Princess  Dalgourski  to  La  Harpe's  house,  to  hear  him 
repeat  some  of  his  own  verses.  He  lives  in  a  wretched 
house,  and  we  went  up  dirty  stairs,  through  dirty  pas- 
sages, where  I  wondered  how  fine  ladies'  trains  and 
noses  could  go,  and  were  received  in  a  dark  small  den 
by  the  philosopher,  or  rather  deVot,  for  he  spurns  the 
name  of  philosopher:  he  was  in  a  dirty  reddish  night- 
gown, and  very  dirty  nightcap  bound  round  the  fore- 
head with  a  superlatively  dirty  chocolate-colored  ribbon. 
Madame  Re'camier,  the  beautiful,  the  elegant,  robed  in 
white  satin  trimmed  with  white  fur,  seated  herself  on 
the  elbow  of  his  armchair,  and  besought  him  to  repeat 
his  verses.  Charlotte  has  drawn  a  picture  of  this  scene. 
We  met  at  La  Harpe's  Lady  Elizabeth  Foster  and  Lady 
Besborough  —  very  engaging  manners. 

We  were  a  few  days  ago  at  a  "Bal  d'Enfants ;  this  you 
would  translate  a  children's  ball,  and  so  did  we,  till  we 
were  set  right  by  the  learned,  —  not  a  single  child  was 
at  this  ball,  and  only  half  a  dozen  unmarried  ladies;  it 
is  a  ball  given  by  mothers  to  their  grown-up  children. 
Charlotte  appeared  as  usual  to  great  advantage,  and  was 
much  admired  for  her  ease  and  unaffected  manners. 
She  danced  one  English  country  dance  with  M.  de  Cril- 
lon,  son  of  the  Gibraltar  Duke;  when  she  stood  up,  a 
gentleman  came  to  me  and  exclaimed,  "Ah,  Mademoi- 
selle votre  soeur  va  danser,  nous  attendons  le  moment 
oti  elle  va  paraitre."  She  appeared  extremely  well 
from  not  being  anxious  to  appear  at  all.  To-day  we 
stayed  at  home  to  gain  time  for  letters,  etc.,  but  thir- 
teen visitors,  besides  the  washerwoman,  prevented  our 
accomplishing  all  our  great  and  good  purposes.  The 


126  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [FEB. 

visitors  were  all,  except  the  washerwoman,  so  agreeable, 
that  even  while  they  interrupted  us,  we  did  not  know 
how  to  wish  them  gone. 

On  the  27th  January  Mr.  Edgeworth  received  a 
peremptory  order  from  the  French  Government  to  quit 
Paris  immediately.  He  went  with  Maria  to  the  village 
of  Passy. 

Our  friend,  Madame  Gautier,  generously  offered  to 
him  the  use  of  her  house  there,  but  he  would  not  com- 
promise her.  M.  de  Pastoret  and  M.  Delessert  visited 
him  the  next  morning,  fearless  of  Buonaparte  and  his 
orders,  and  the  day  after  M.  Pictet  and  M.  Le  Breton 
came  to  say  that  he  could  return  to  Paris.  There  had 
been  some  misapprehension  from  Mr.  Edgeworth  hav- 
ing been  supposed  to  be  brother  to  the  Abbd  Edgeworth. 
He  wrote  to  Lord  Whitworth  that  he  would  never  deny 
or  give  up  the  honor  of  being  related  to  the  Abbd. 
Lord  Whitworth  advised  him  to  state  the  exact  degree 
of  relationship,  which  he  did,  and  we  heard  no  more  of 
the  matter.1 

MISS    CHARLOTTE    EDGEWORTH    TO    C.    S.    EDGEWORTH. 

PARIS,  February  21, 1803. 

We  went  yesterday  to  see  the  consecration  of  a  Bishop 
at  Notre  Dame,  and  here  I  endured  with  satisfaction 
most  intense  cold  for  three  hours,  and  saw  a  solemn 
ridiculous  ceremony,  and  heard  music  that  went  through 

1  The  Abb6  Edgeworth  (who  called  himself  M.  de  Firmont,  from  the 
estate  possessed  by  his  branch  of  the  family)  was  first  cousin  once  re- 
moved to  Mr.  Edgeworth,  being  the  son  of  Essex,  fifth  son  of  Sir  John 
Edgeworth,  and  brother  to  Mr.  Edgeworth's  grandfather,  Colonel  Fran- 
cis Edgeworth  of  Edgeworthstown. 


1803]  CHARLOTTE   TO   C.   S.   EDGE  WORTH  127 

me;  I  could  not  have  believed  that  sounds  could  have 
been  so  fine:  the  alternate  sounds  of  voices  and  the 
organ,  or  both  together,  and  then  the  faint,  distant 
murmur  of  prayers,  each  peal  so  much  in  harmony  as 
to  appear  like  one  note  beginning  softly,  rising,  rising, 
rising,  — then  dying  slowly  off.  There  was  one  man 
whose  voice  was  so  loud,  so  full  and  clear,  that  it  was 
equal  to  the  voices  of  three  men.  The  church  itself  is 
very  fine;  we  were  placed  so  as  to  see  below  us  the 
whole  ceremony.  The  solemnity  of  the  manner  in 
which  they  walked,  their  all  being  dressed  alike,  and 
differently  from  the  rest  of  the  people,  rendered  these 
priests  a  new  set  of  beings.  The  ceremony  appeared 
particularly  ridiculous,  as  we  could  not  hear  a  word  that 
was  said,  because  the  church  is  so  large,  and  we  were  at 
too  great  a  distance,  and  all  we  could  see  was  a  Bishop 
dressing  or  undressing,  or  lying  on  the  ground!  The 
Archbishop  of  Paris,  who  performed  the  chief  part  of 
the  ceremony,  is  a  man  about  eighty  years  of  age,  yet 
he  had  the  strength  to  go  through  the  fatigue  which 
such  a  ceremony  requires  for  three  hours  together  in 
very  great  cold,  and  every  action  was  performed  with  as 
much  firmness  as  a  man  of  fifty  could  do  it,  and  there 
was  but  one  part  which  he  left  out,  —  the  walking 
round  along  with  the  other  bishops  with  the  cross  borne 
before  them.  We  were  told  that  he  has  often  gone 
through  similar  fatigue,  and  in  the  evening,  or  an  hour 
after,  amused  a  company  at  dinner  with  cheerful,  witty 
conversation:  he  is  not  a  man  of  letters,  but  he  has 
abilities  and  knowledge  of  the  world.  All  these  men 
were  remarkably  tall  and  fine-looking,  some  very  vener- 
able; there  were  about  sixty  assembled.  It  appears 


128  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [FEB. 

extraordinary  that  there  should  not  be  one  little  or 
mean-looking  among  a  set  of  people  who  are  not,  like 
soldiers,  chosen  for  their  height,  and  as  they  must  have 
come  from  different  parts  of  France.  I  think  there  is 
a  greater  variety  of  sizes  among  the  French  than  among 
us;  if  all  the  people  who  stand  in  the  street  of  Edge- 
worthstown  every  Sunday  were  Frenchmen,  you  would 
see  ten  remarkably  little  for  one  that  you  see  there,  and 
ten  remarkably  tall.  I  think  there  are  more  remark- 
ably tall  men  in  Ireland  than  in  England. 

Maria  is  writing  a  story,1  and  has  a  little  table  by 
the  fire,  at  which  she  sits  as  she  used  to  do  at  Edge- 
worthstown  for  half  an  hour  together  without  stirring, 
with  her  pen  in  her  hand;  then  she  scribbles  on  very 
fast.  My  father  intends  to  present  his  lock,  with  a 
paper  giving  some  account  of  it  by  way  of  introduction, 
to  the  society  of  which  he  is  a  member,  La  Socttte 
pour  encourager  les  arts  et  metiers.  I  suppose  you 
see  in  the  newspapers  that  the  ancient  Academy  is  again 
established  under  the  name  of  the  Institute? 

MBS.    EDGEWORTH    TO    MISS    SNEYD. 

PARIS,  February  22,  1803. 

The  cough  you  mention  has  been  epidemic  here. 
The  thermometer  has  been  as  low  as  9°  on  the  morning  of 
the  15th;  next  day  40°,  and  the  most  charming  weather 
has  succeeded;  the  streets  have  been  so  well  washed  by 
the  rain  and  scraped  by  the  snow-cleaners,  that  they  are 

1  Miss  Edgeworth  made  a  sketch  for  the  story  of  Madame  de  Fleury 
about  this  time,  but  did  not  finish  it  till  long  afterwards.  The  incident 
of  the  locked-up  children  was  told  to  her  by  Madame  de  Pastoret,  to 
whom  it  had  happened,  and  Maria  took  the  name  de  Fleury  from  M.  de 
Pastoret' s  country  house,  the  Chateau  de  Fleury. 


1803]  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  TO  MISS   SNEYD  129 

actually  dry  and  clean  for  the  first  time  since  October, 
which  is  fortunate,  as  the  streets  are  crowded  with 
people  for  the  carnival,  some  in  masks,  some  disguised 
as  apothecaries,  old  women,  harlequins,  and  knight- 
errants,  followed  by  hundreds  and  thousands  of  men, 
women,  and  children,  to  whom  they  say  what  they  can, 
generally  nonsense  devoid  of  wit. 

Last  Thursday,  jeudi-gras,  we  dined  at  two,  and 
were  at  St.  Germain  at  six,  at  Madame  Campan's,  where 
we  had  been  invited  to  see  some  plays  acted  by  her 
pupils.  The  little  theatre  appeared  already  full  when 
we  entered.  We  stood  a  few  seconds  near  the  door, 
when  Madame  Campan  cried  out  from  above,  "Placez 
Madame  Edgeworth,  faites  monter  Madame  et  sa  com- 
pagnie."  So  we  went  up  to  the  gallery,  where  we  had 
very  good  places  next  to  a  Polish  Princess  and  half  a 
dozen  of  her  countrywomen,  who  are  all  polite  and  well- 
bred.  The  crowd  increased,  many  more  than  there  was 
room  for.  The  famous  Madame  Visconti  and  Lady 
Yarmouth  sat  behind  us;  Lady  Elizabeth  Foster  and 
Lady  Besborough  not  far  from  us;  and  below  there 
were  a  number  of  English,  the  Duchess  of  Gordon  and 
her  beautiful  daughter,  Lady  Georgiana.  Madame  Louis 
Buonaparte,  who  had  been  one  of  Madame  Campan's 
eleves,  was  the  principal  Frenchwoman.  The  piece, 
"Esther,"  was  performed  admirably;  the  singing  of  the 
choir  of  young  girls  charming,  and  the  petite  piece,  "  La 
Rosiere  de  Salency,"  was  better  still;  you  know  it  is  a 
charming  thing,  and  was  made  so  touching  as  to  draw 
tears  from  every  eye. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  writes :  — 


130  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [1803 

At  the  time  this  letter  was  written  rumors  that  war 
would  break  out  with  England  began  to  be  prevalent  in 
Paris.  Mr.  Edgeworth  inquired  among  his  friends, 
who  said  they  feared  it  was  true.  He  decided  to  set 
out  immediately,  and  we  began  to  pack  up.  Other 
friends  contradicted  this  fear.  We  were  anxious  on 
another  account  to  leave  Paris,  from  the  bad  state  of 
Henry  Edgeworth' s  health,  his  friends  at  Edinburgh 
urging  us  to  go  there  to  see  him.  Better  news  of  him, 
and  the  hope  that  the  rumors  of  war  were  unfounded, 
made  us  suspend  our  packing.  M.  Le  Breton  called, 
and  said  he  was  sure  of  knowing  before  that  evening  the 
truth  as  to  Buonaparte's  warlike  intentions,  and  that  if 
Mr.  Edgeworth  met  him  at  a  friend's  that  night,  he 
would  know  by  his  suddenly  putting  on  his  hat  that 
war  was  imminent.  He  was  unable  to  visit  us  again, 
and  afraid  if  he  wrote  that  his  letter  might  be  inter- 
cepted, and  still  more  was  he  afraid  of  being  overheard 
if  he  said  anything  at  the  party  where  they  were  to 
meet.  Mr.  Edgeworth  went,  and  saw  M.  Le  Breton, 
who  did  suddenly  put  on  his  hat,  and  on  Mr.  Edge- 
'  worth's  return  to  us  he  said  we  must  go. 

The  next  day  was  spent  in  taking  leave  of  our  kind 
friends,  from  whom  we  found  it  so  painful  to  part,  and 
who  expressed  so  much  regret  at  losing  us,  and  so  much 
doubt  as  to  the  probability  of  war,  that  Mr.  Edgeworth 
promised  that  if,  on  his  arrival  in  London,  his  Paris 
friends  wrote  to  say  Peace,  he  would  return  to  them, 
and  bring  over  the  rest  of  his  family  from  Ireland  for  a 
year's  residence. 


1803]  TO  MISS   SNEYD  131 

MARIA   TO    MISS    SNEYD. 

CALAIS,  March  4, 1803. 

At  last,  my  dear  Aunt  Mary,  we  have  actually  left 
Paris.  Perhaps  we  may  be  detained  here  for  some 
days,  as  the  wind  is  directly  against  us;  but  we  have 
no  reason  to  lament,  as  we  are  in  Grandsire's  excellent 
house,  and  have  books  and  thoughts  enough  to  occupy 
us.  Thoughts  of  friends  from  whom  we  have  parted, 
and  of  friends  to  whom  we  are  going.  How  few  people 
in  this  world  are  so  rich  in  friends!  When  I  reflect 
upon  the  kindness  which  has  been  shown  to  us  abroad, 
and  upon  the  affection  that  awaits  us  at  home,  I  feel 
afraid  that  I  shall  never  be  able  to  deserve  my  share  of 
all  this  happiness. 

Charlotte  is  perfectly  well ;  I  believe  no  young  woman 
was  ever  more  admired  at  Paris  than  she  has  been,  and 
none  was  ever  less  spoiled  by  admiration. 

DOVER,  March  6. 

All  alive  and  merry:  just  landed,  after  a  fine  passage 
of  six  hours. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  narrates :  — 

On  our  arrival  in  London,  we  found  the  expected 
letter  from  M.  Le  Breton.  It  had  been  agreed  that  if 
there  was  to  be  peace,  he  was  to  conclude  his  letter 
with  "Mes  hommages  h,  la  charmante  Mademoiselle 
Charlotte ; "  if  war,  the  charmante  was  to  be  omitted. 
He  ended  his  letter,  which  made  not  the  smallest  allu- 
sion to  politics  or  public  events,  with  "  Mes  hommages 


132  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

k  Mademoiselle  Charlotte,"  and  we  set  out  for  Edin- 
burgh. 

On  the  first  rumors  of  war,  while  we  were  in  France, 
Mr.  Edgeworth  wrote  to  warn  his  son  Lovell,  who  was 
on  his  way  from  Geneva  to  Paris,  but  he  never  received 
the  letter:  he  was  stopped  on  his  journey,  made  prisoner, 
and  remained  among  the  detenus  for  eleven  years,  till 
the  end  of  the  war  in  1814. 

MABIA    TO    MISS    SNEYD. 

EDINBURGH,  March  19, 1803. 

Just  arrived  in  Edinburgh,  all  four  in  perfect  health, 
and  I  cannot  employ  myself  better  than  in  bringing  up 
the  history  of  our  last  week  at  Paris.  The  two  most 
memorable  events  were  Madame  Campan's  play  and  the 
visit  to  Madame  de  Genlis.  The  theatre  at  Madame 
Campan's  was  not  much  larger  than  our  own;  the 
dresses  "  magnificent  beyond  description ;  "  the  acting 
and  the  dancing  infinitely  too  good  for  any  but  young 
ladies  intended  for  the  stage.  The  play  was  Racine's 
"Esther,"  and  it  interested  me  the  next  day  to  read 
Madame  de  SeVignd's  account  of  its  representation  by 
the  young  ladies  of  St.  Cyr,  under  the  patronage  of 
Madame  de  Maintenon.  Madame  de  Genlis 's  beautiful 
"Rosiere  de  Salency "  was  acted  after  "Esther,"  and 
the  scene  where  the  mother  denounces  her  daughter, 
and  pushes  her  from  her,  was  so  admirably  written  and 
so  admirably  played  that  it  made  me  forget  the  stage, 
the  actors, 'and  the  spectators,  — I  could  not  help  think- 
ing it  real. 

Full  of  the  pleasure  I  had  received  from  the  "Rosiere 
de  Salency,"  I  was  impatient  to  pay  a  visit  to  Madame 


1803]  TO   MISS   SNEYD  133 

de  Genlis.  A  few  days  afterwards  we  dined  with  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Scotto,  rather  a  stupid  party  of  gentlemen. 
After  dinner  my  father  called  me  out  of  the  room  and 
said,  "Now  we  will  go  to  see  Madame  de  Genlis." 
She  had  previously  written  to  say  she  would  be  glad  to 
be  personally  acquainted  with  Mr.  and  Miss  Edgeworth. 
She  lives  —  where  do  you  think?  —  where  Sully  used 
to  live,  at  the  Arsenal.  Buonaparte  has  given  her  apart- 
ments there.  Now  I  do  not  know  what  you  imagined 
in  reading  Sully's  "Memoirs,"  but  I  always  imagined 
that  the  Arsenal  was  one  large  building,  with  a  faQade 
to  it  like  a  very  large  hotel  or  a  palace,  and  I  fancied  it 
was  somewhere  in  the  middle  of  Paris.  On  the  con- 
trary, it  is  quite  in  the  suburbs.  We  drove  on  and  on, 
and  at  last  we  came  to  a  heavy  archway,  like  what  you 
see  at  the  entrance  of  a  fortified  town;  we  drove  under 
it  for  the  length  of  three  or  four  yards  in  total  darkness, 
and  then  we  found  ourselves,  as  well  as  we  could  see 
by  the  light  of  some  dim  lamps,  in  a  large  square  court, 
surrounded  by  buildings:  here  we  thought  we  were  to 
alight;  no  such  thing;  the  coachman  drove  under  an- 
other thick  archway,  lighted  at  the  entrance  by  a  single 
lamp,  we  found  ourselves  in  another  court,  and  still  we 
went  on,  archway  after  archway,  court  after  court,  in 
all  which  reigned  desolate  silence.  I  thought  the  arch- 
ways, and  the  courts,  and  the  desolate  silence  would 
never  end;  at  last  the  coachman  stopped,  and  asked  for 
the  tenth  time  where  the  lady  lived.  It  is  excessively 
difficult  to  find  people  in  Paris;  we  thought  the  names 
of  Madame  de  Genlis  and  the  Arsenal  would  have  been 
sufficient,  but  the  whole  of  this  congregation  of  courts, 
and  gateways,  and  houses  is  called  the  Arsenal,  and 


134  MARIA  EDGEWOETH  [MARCH 

hundreds  and  hundreds  of  people  inhabit  it  who  are 
probably  perfect  strangers  to  Madame  de  Genlis.  At 
the  doors  where  our  coachman  inquired,  some  answered 
that  they  knew  nothing  of  her,  some  that  she  lived  in 
the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  others  believed  that  she 
might  be  at  Passy,  others  had  heard  that  she  had  apart- 
ments given  to  her  by  Government  somewhere  in  the 
Arsenal,  but  could  not  tell  where;  while  the  coachman 
thus  begged  his  way,  we,  anxiously  looking  out  at  him 
from  the  middle  of  the  great  square  where  we  were  left, 
listened  for  the  answers  that  were  given,  and  which 
often  from  the  distance  escaped  our  ears.  At  last  a 
door  pretty  near  to  us  opened,  and  our  coachman's  head 
and  hat  were  illuminated  by  the  candle  held  by  the 
person  who  opened  the  door,  and  as  the  two  figures 
parleyed  with  each  other  we  could  distinctly  see  the 
expression  of  their  countenances  and  their  lips  move. 
The  result  of  this  parley  was  successful;  we  were  di- 
rected to  the  house  where  Madame  de  Genlis  lived,  and 
thought  all  difficulties  ended.  No  such  thing,  her 
apartments  were  still  to  be  sought  for.  We  saw  before 
us  a  large,  crooked,  ruinous  stone  staircase,  lighted  by 
a  single  bit  of  candle  hanging  in  a  vile  tin  lantern  in  an 
angle  of  the  bare  wall  at  the  turn  of  the  staircase  — 
only  just  light  enough  to  see  that  the  walls  were  bare 
and  old,  and  the  stairs  immoderately  dirty.  There 
were  no  signs  of  the  place  being  inhabited  except  this 
lamp,  which  could  not  have  been  lighted  without  hands. 
I  stood  still  in  melancholy  astonishment,  while  my 
father  groped  his  way  into  a  kind  of  porter's  lodge,  or 
den,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  where  he  found  a  man 
•who  was  porter  to  various  people  who  inhabited  this 


1803]  TO   MISS   SNEYD  135 

house.  You  know  the  Parisian  houses  are  inhabited 
by  hordes  of  different  people,  and  the  stairs  are  in  fact 
streets,  and  dirty  streets,  to  their  dwellings.  The  por- 
ter, who  was  neither  obliging  nor  intelligent,  carelessly 
said  that  "Madame  de  Genlis  logeait  au  second  a 
gauche,  qu'il  faudrait  tirer  sa  sonnette,"  he  believed  she 
was  at  home,  if  she  was  not  gone  out.  Up  we  went  by 
ourselves,  for  this  porter,  though  we  were  strangers,  and 
pleaded  that  we  were  so,  never  offered  to  stir  a  step  to 
guide  or  to  light  us.  When  we  got  to  the  second  stage, 
we  faintly  saw,  by  the  light  from  the  one  candle  at  the 
first  landing-place,  two  dirty  large  folding-doors,  one  set 
on  the  right  and  one  on  the  left,  and  hanging  on  each 
a  bell,  no  larger  than  what  you  see  in  the  small  parlor 
of  a  small  English  inn.  My  father  pulled  one  bell  and 
waited  some  minutes  —  no  answer ;  pulled  the  other  bell 
and  waited  —  no  answer;  thumped  at  the  left  door  — 
no  answer;  pushed  and  pulled  at  it  —  could  not  open 
it ;  pushed  open  one  of  the  right-hand  folding-doors  — 
utter  darkness ;  went  in,  as  well  as  we  could  feel,  there 
was  no  furniture.  After  we  had  been  there  a  few  sec- 
onds we  could  discern  the  bare  walls  and  some  strange 
lumber  in  one  corner.  The  room  was  a  prodigious 
height,  like  an  old  playhouse.  We  retreated,  and  in 
despair  went  down  again  to  the  stupid  or  surly  porter. 
He  came  upstairs  very  unwillingly,  and  pointed  to  a 
deep  recess  between  the  stairs  and  the  f olding- doors : 
"Allez,  voila  la  porte  et  tirez  la  sonnette."  He  and  his 
candle  went  down,  and  my  father  had  but  just  time  to 
seize  the  handle  of  the  bell,  when  we  were  again  in 
darkness.  After  ringing  this  feeble  bell  we  presently 
heard  doors  open,  and  little  footsteps  approaching  nigh. 


136  MARIA.  EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

The  door  was  opened  by  a  girl  of  about  Honora's  size, 
holding  an  ill-set-up,  wavering  candle  in  her  hand,  the 
light  of  which  fell  full  upon  her  face  and  figure,  —  her 
face  was  remarkably  intelligent;  dark  sparkling  eyes, 
dark  hair,  curled  in  the  most  fashionable  long  cork- 
screw ringlets  over  her  eyes  and  cheeks.  She  parted 
the  ringlets  to  take  a  full  view  of  us,  and  we  weret 
equally  impatient  to  take  a  full  view  of  her.  The  dress 
of  her  figure  by  no  means  suited  the  head  and  the 
elegance  of  her  attitude:  what  her  "nether  weeds" 
might  be  we  could  not  distinctly  see,  but  they  seemed  to 
be  a  coarse  short  petticoat,  like  what  Molly  Bristow's 
children  would  wear,  not  on  Sundays,  a  woolen  gray 
spencer  above,  pinned  with  a  single  pin  by  the  lapels 
tight  across  the  neck  under  the  chin,  and  open  all 
below.  After  surveying  us,  and  hearing  that  our  name 
was  Edgeworth,  she  smiled  graciously,  and  bid  us  fol- 
low her,  saying,  "Maman  est  chez  elle."  She  led  the 
way  with  the  grace  of  a  young  lady  who  has  been  taught 
to  dance,  across  two  ante- chambers,  miserable  looking, 
but  miserable  or  not,  no  house  in  Paris  can  be  without 
them.  The  girl,  or  young  lady,  for  we  were  still  in 
doubt  which  to  think  her,  led  us  into  a  small  room,  in 
which  the  candles  were  so  well  screened  by  a  green  tin 
screen  that  we  could  scarcely  distinguish  the  tall  form 
of  a  lady  in  black,  who  rose  from  her  armchair  by  the 
fireside  as  the  door  opened ;  a  great  puff  of  smoke  came 
from  the  huge  fireplace  at  the  same  moment.  She  came 
forward,  and  we  made  our  way  towards  her  as  well  as 
we  could  through  a  confusion  of  tables,  chairs,  and 
work-baskets,  china,  writing-desks,  and  inkstands,  and 
bird-cages,  and  a  harp.  She  did  not  speak,  and  as  her 


1803]  TO   MISS   SNEYD  137 

back  was  now  turned  to  both  fire  and  candle,  I  could 
not  see  her  face,  or  anything  but  the  outline  of  her 
form,  and  her  attitude;  her  form  was  the  remains  of  a 
fine  form,  and  her  attitude  that  of  a  woman  used  to  a 
better  drawing-room.  I,  being  foremost,  and  she  silent, 
was  compelled  to  speak  to  the  figure  in  darkness: 
"  Madame  de  Genlis,  nous  a  fait  1'honneur  de  nous  man- 
der  qu'elle  voulait  bien  nous  permettre  de  lui  rendre 
visite,  et  de  lui  off rir  nos  respects, "  said  I,  or  words  to 
that  effect:  to  which  she  replied  by  taking  my  hand 
and  saying  something  in  which  charmee  was  the  most 
intelligible  word.  Whilst  she  spoke  she  looked  over 
my  shoulder  at  my  father,  whose  bow  I  presume  told 
her  he  was  a  gentleman,  for  she  spoke  to  him  immedi- 
ately as  if  she  wished  to  please,  and  seated  us  in  fau- 
teuils  near  the  fire. 

I  then  had  a  full  view  of  her  face  and  figure;  she 
looked  like  the  full-length  picture  of  my  great-great- 
grandmother  Edgeworth,  you  may  have  seen  in  the  gar- 
ret, very  thin  and  melancholy,  but  her  face  not  'so  hand- 
some as  my  great-grandmother's;  dark  eyes,  long  sallow 
cheeks,  compressed  thin  lips,  two  or  three  black  ring- 
lets on  a  high  forehead,  a  cap  that  Mrs.  Grier  might 
wear,  —  altogether  an  appearance  of  fallen  fortunes, 
worn-out  health,  and  excessive,  but  guarded  irritability. 
To  me  there  was  nothing  of  that  engaging,  captivating 
manner  which  I  had  been  taught  to  expect  by  many 
even  of  her  enemies ;  she  seemed  to  me  to  be  alive  only 
to  literary  quarrels  and  jealousies  —  the  muscles  of  her 
face  as  she  spoke,  or  as  my  father  spoke  to  her,  quickly 
and  too  easily  expressed  hatred  and  anger  whenever  any 
not  of  her  own  party  were  mentioned.  She  is  now,  you 


138  MAKIA   EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

know,  devote  acharnement.  When  I  mentioned  with 
some  enthusiasm  the  good  Abbd  Morellet,  who  has  writ- 
ten so  courageously  in  favor  of  the  French  exiled 
nobility  and  their  children,  she  answered  in  a  sharp 
voice,  "Oui,  c'est  un  homme  de  beaucoup  d' esprit,  k  ce 
qu'on  dit,  a  ce  que  je  crois  meme,  mais  il  faut  vous 
apprendre  q'uil  n'est  pas  des  NOTKES."  My  father 
spoke  of  Pamela,  Lady  Edward  Fitzgerald,  and  ex- 
plained how  he  had  defended  her  in  the  Irish  House 
of  Commons;  instead  of  being  pleased  or  touched,  her 
mind  instantly  diverged  into  an  elaborate  and  artificial 
exculpation  of  Lady  Edward  and  herself,  proving,  or 
attempting  to  prove,  that  she  never  knew  any  of  her 
husband's  plans,  that  she  utterly  disapproved  of  them, 
at  least  of  all  she  suspected  of  them.  This  defense  was 
quite  lost  upon  us,  who  never  thought  of  attacking; 
but  Madame  de  Genlis  seems  to  have  been  so  much  used 
to  be  attacked,  that  she  has  defenses  and  apologies  ready 
prepared,  suited  to  all  possible  occasions.  She  spoke  of 
Madame  de  Stael's  "Delphine"  with  detestation,  of 
another  new  and  fashionable  novel,  "Amelie,"  with  ab- 
horrence, and  kissed  my  forehead  twice  because  I  had 
not  read  it :  "  Vous  autres  Anglaises  vous  etes  modestes !  " 
Where  was  Madame  de  Genlis 's  sense  of  delicacy  when 
she  penned  and  published  "  Les  Chevaliers  du  Cigne  "  ? 
Forgive  me,  my  dear  Aunt  Mary,  you  begged  me  to  see 
her  with  favorable  eyes,  and  I  went  to  see  her  after 
seeing  her  "Rosiere  de  Salency"  with  the  most  favor- 
able disposition,  but  I  could  not  like  her;  there  was 
something  of  malignity  in  her  countenance  and  conver- 
sation that  repelled  love,  and  of  hypocrisy  which  anni- 
hilated esteem,  and  from  time  to  time  I  saw,  or  thought 


1803]  TO   MISS   SNEYD  139 

I  saw  through  the  gloom  of  her  countenance,  a  gleam  of 
coquetry.  But  my  father  judges  much  more  favorably 
of  her  than  I  do ;  she  evidently  took  pains  to  please  him, 
and  he  says  he  is  sure  she  is  a  person  over  whose  mind 
he  could  gain  great  ascendency;  he  thinks  her  a  woman 
of  violent  passions,  unbridled  imagination,  and  ill-tem- 
pered, but  not  malevolent  —  one  who  has  been  so  torn 
to  pieces  that  she  now  turns  upon  her  enemies,  and  longs 
to  tear  in  her  turn.  He  says  she  has  certainly  great 
powers  of  pleasing,  though  I  neither  saw  nor  felt  them. 
But  you  know,  my  dear  aunt,  that  I  am  not  famous  for 
judging  sanely  of  strangers  on  a  first  visit,  and  I  might 
be  prejudiced  or  mortified  by  Madame  de  Genlis  assur- 
ing me  that  she  had  never  read  anything  of  mine  except 
"Belinda;"  had  heard  of  "Practical  Education,"  and 
heard  it  much  praised,  but  had  never  seen  it.  She  has 
just  published  an  additional  volume  of  her  "Petits 
Romans,"  in  which  there  are  some  beautiful  stories,  but 
you  must  not  expect  another  "Mademoiselle  de  Cler- 
mont :  "  one  such  story  in  an  age  is  as  much  as  one  can 
reasonably  expect. 

I  had  almost  forgotten  to  tell  you  that  the  little 
girl  who  showed  us  in  is  a  girl  whom  she  is  educat- 
ing. "Elle  m'appelle  maman,  mais  elle  n'est  pas  ma 
fille."  The  manner  in  which  this  little  girl  spoke  to 
Madame  de  Genlis,  and  looked  at  her,  appeared  to  me 
more  in  her  favor  than  anything  else.  She  certainly 
spoke  to  her  with  freedom  and  fondness,  and  without 
any  affectation.  I  went  to  look  at  what  the  child  was 
writing;  she  was  translating  Darwin's  "Zoonomia."  I 
read  some  of  her  translation,  it  was  excellent;  she  was, 
I  think  she  said,  ten  years  old.  It  is  certain  that 


140  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

Madame  de  Genlis  made  the  present  Duke  of  Orleans 
such  an  excellent  mathematician,  that  when  he  was 
during  his  emigration  in  distress  for  bread,  he  taught 
mathematics  as  a  professor  in  one  of  the  German  Uni- 
versities. If  we  could  see  or  converse  with  one  of  her 
pupils,  and  hear  what  they  think  of  her,  we  should  be 
able  to  form  a  better  judgment  than  from  all  that  her 
books  and  enemies  say  for  or  against  her.  I  say  her 
books,  not  he?  friends  and  enemies,  for  I  fear  she  has 
no  friends  to  plead  for  her,  except  her  books.  I  never 
met  any  one  of  any  party  who  was  her  friend:  this 
strikes  me  with  real  melancholy;  to  see  a  woman  of  the 
first  talents  in  Europe,  who  had  lived  and  shone  in  the 
gay  court  of  the  gayest  nation  in  the  world,  now  de- 
serted and  forlorn,  living  in  wretched  lodgings,  with 
some  of  the  pictures  and  finery,  the  wreck  of  her  for- 
tunes, before  her  eyes,  without  society,  without  a  single 
friend,  admired  —  and  despised:  she  lives  literally  in 
spite,  not  in  pity.  Her  cruelty  in  drawing  a  profligate 
character  of  the  Queen  after  her  execution,  in  the 
"Chevaliers  du  Cigne,"  her  taking  her  pupils  at  the 
beginning  of  the  Revolution  to  the  revolutionary  clubs, 
her  connection  with  the  late  Duke  of  Orleans  and  her 
hypocrisy  about  it,  her  insisting  upon  being  governess 
to  his  children  when  the  Duchess  did  not  wish  it,  and 
its  being  supposed  that  it  was  she  who  instigated  the 
Duke  in  all  his  horrible  conduct;  and  more  than  all  the 
rest,  her  own  attacks  and  apologies  have  brought  her 
into  all  this  isolated  state  of  reprobation.  And  now, 
my  dear  aunt,  I  have  told  you  all  I  know,  or  have 
heard,  or  think  about  her;  and  perhaps  I  have  tired 
you,  but  I  fancied  that  it  was  a  subject  particularly 


1803]  TO  MISS   SNEYD  141 

interesting  to  you,  and  if  I  have  been  mistaken  you  will 
with  your  usual  good- nature  forgive  me  and  say,  "I  am 
sure  Maria  meant  it  kindly." 

Now  to  fresh  fields.  In  London  you  know  that  we 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sneyd,  and 
Emma:  there  is  such  a  general  likeness  between  her 
and  Charlotte,  that  they  might  pass  for  sisters.  Mrs. 
Sneyd  bribed  us  to  like  her  by  her  extreme  kindness. 
We  went  to  Covent  Garden  Theatre  and  saw  the  new 
play  of  "  John  Bull :  "  some  humor,  and  some  pathos, 
and  one  good  character  of  an  Irishman,  but  the  contrast 
between  the  elegance  of  the  French  theatre  and  the 
grossierete  of  the  English  struck  us  much.  But  this  is 
the  judgment  of  a  disappointed  playwright ! 

Now,  Aunt  Mary,  scene  changes  to  York,  where  we 
stayed  a  day  to  see  the  Minster;  and  as  we  had  found 
a  parcel  of  new  books  for  us  at  Johnson's,  from  Lindley 
Murray,  we  thought  ourselves  bound  to  go  and  see  him. 
We  were  told  that  he  lived  about  a  mile  from  York, 
and  in  the  evening  we  drove  to  see  him.  A  very  neat- 
looking  house;  door  opened  by  a  pretty  Quaker  maid- 
servant; shown  into  a  well- furnished  parlor,  cheerful 
fire,  everything  bespeaking  comfort  and  happiness.  On 
the  sofa  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room  was  seated,  quite 
upright,  a  Quaker-looking  man  in  a  pale  brown  coat, 
who  never  attempted  to  rise  from  his  seat  to  receive  us, 
but  held  out  his  hand,  and  with  a  placid,  benevolent 
smile  said,  "You  are  most  welcome  —  I  am  heartily 
glad  to  see  you ;  it  is  my  misfortune  that  I  cannot  rise 
from  my  seat,  but  I  must  be  as  I  am,  as  I  have  been 
these  eighteen  years."  He  had  lost  the  use  of  one  arm 
and  side,  and  cannot  walk  —  not  paralytic,  but  from  the 


142  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [MARCH 

effects  of  a  fever.  Such  mild,  cheerful  resignation, 
such  benevolence  of  manners  and  countenance  I  never 
saw  in  any  human  being.  He  writes  solely  with  the 
idea  of  doing  good  to  his  fellow- creatures.  He  wants 
nothing  in  this  life,  he  says,  neither  fortune  nor  fame 
—  he  seems  to  forget  that  he  wants  health  —  he  says, 
"I  have  so  many  blessings."  His  wife,  who  seemed  to 
love  and  admire  "  my  husband  "  as  the  first  and  best  of 
human  beings,  gave  us  excellent  tea  and  abundance  of 
good  cake. 

I  have  not  room  here  under  the  seal  for  the  Minster, 
nor  for  the  giant  figures  on  Alnwick  Castle,  nor  for  the 
droll  man  at  the  beautiful  town  of  Durham;  but  I  or 
somebody  better  than  me  will  tell  of  them,  and  of  Mrs. 
Green's  drawings  and  painted  jessamine  in  her  window, 
and  Mr.  Wellbeloved  and  his  charming  children,  and 
Mr.  Homer,1  at  Newcastle,  and  Dr.  Trotter,  at  ditto. 

My  father  says,  "  I  hope  you  have  done ; "  and  so 
perhaps  do  you. 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

EDINBURGH,  March  30, 1803. 

In  a  few  days  I  hope  we  shall  see  you.  I  long  to 
see  you  again,  and  to  hear  your  voice,  and  to  receive 
from  you  those  kind  looks  and  kind  words,  which  cus- 
tom cannot  stale.  I  believe  that  the  more  variety 
people  see,  the  more  they  become  attached  to  their  first 
and  natural  friends.  I  had  taken  a  large  sheet  of  paper 
to  tell  you  some  of  the  wonders  we  have  seen  in  our 
nine  days'  stay  in  Edinburgh,  but  my  father  has  wisely 
advised  me  to  content  myself  with  a  small  sheet,  as  I 
i  Francis  Homer. 


1803]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  143 

am  to  have  the  joy  of  talking  to  you  so  soon,  and  may 
then  say  volumes  in  the  same  time  that  I  could  write 
pages.  I  cannot  express  the  pleasure  we  have  felt  in 
being  introduced  to  Henry's  delightful  society  of  friends 
here,  both  those  he  has  chosen  for  himself  and  those 
who  have  chosen  him.  Old  and  young,  grave  and  gay, 
join  in  speaking  of  him  with  a  degree  of  affection  and 
esteem  that  is  most  touching  and  gratifying.  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Stewart 1  surpassed  all  that  I  had  expected,  and 
I  had  expected  much.  Mr.  Stewart  is  said  to  be  natu- 
rally or  habitually  grave  and  reserved,  but  towards  us 
he  has  broken  through  his  habits  or  his  nature,  and  I 
never  conversed  with  any  one  with  whom  I  was  more 
at  ease.  He  has  a  grave,  sensible  face,  more  like  the 
head  of  Shakespeare  than  any  other  head  or  print  that  I 
can  remember.  I  have  not  heard  him  lecture;  no 
woman  can  go  to  the  public  lectures  here,  and  I  don't 
choose  to  go  in  men's  or  boy's  clothes,  or  in  the  pocket 
of  the  Irish  giant,  though  he  is  here  and  well  able  to 
carry  me.  Mrs.  Stewart  has  been  for  years  wishing  in 
vain  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing  one  of  her  husband's 
lectures.  She  is  just  the  sort  of  woman  you  would 
like,  that  you  would  love.  I  do  think  it  is  impossible 
to  know  her  without  loving  her;  indeed,  she  has  been 
so  kind  to  Henry,  that  it  would  be  doubly  impossible 
(an  Irish  impossibility)  to  us.  Yet  you  know  people 
do  not  always  love  because  they  have  received  obliga- 
tions. It  is  an  additional  proof  of  her  merit,  and  of 
her  powers  of  pleasing,  that  she  makes  those  who  are 

1  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dugald  Stewart.  As  Professor  at  the  University  of 
Edinburgh,  Mr.  Stewart  gave  those  lectures  which  Sir  James  Mackintosh 
said  "breathed  the  love  of  virtue  into  whole  generations  of  pupils." 


144  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [1803 

under  obligations  to  her,  forget  that  they  are  bound  to 
be  grateful,  and  only  remember  that  they  think  her 
good  and  agreeable. 

TO    MISS    HONORA    EDGEWORTH.1 

GLASGOW,  April  4, 1803. 

I  have  not  forgotten  my  promise  to  write  to  you,  and 
I  think  I  can  give  you  pleasure  by  telling  you  that 
Henry  is  getting  better  every  day,2  and  that  we  have 
all  been  extremely  happy  in  the  company  of  several  of 
his  friends  in  Edinburgh  and  Glasgow.  He  has  made 
these  friends  by  his  own  good  qualities  and  good  con- 
duct, and  we  hear  them  speak  of  him  with  the  greatest 
esteem  and  affection.  This  morning  Dr.  Birkbeck,  one 
of  Henry's  friends,  took  us  to  see  several  curious 
machines,  in  a  house  where  he  gives  lectures  on  mechani- 
cal and  chemical  subjects.  He  is  going  to  give  a  lec- 
ture on  purpose  for  children,  and  he  says  he  took  the 
idea  for  doing  so  from  "Practical  Education."  He 
opened  a  drawer  and  showed  to  me  a  little  perspective 
machine  he  had  made  from  the  print  of  my  father's; 
and  we  were  also  very  much  surprised  to  see  in  one  of 
his  rooms  a  large  globe  of  silk,  swelled  out  and  lighted 
by  a  lamp  withinside,  so  that  when  the  room  was  dark- 
ened we  could  plainly  see  the  map  of  the  world  painted 
on  it,  as  suggested  in  "Practical  Education."  My 
father  mentioned  to  this  gentleman  my  Aunt  Charlotte's 
invention  of  painting  the  stars  on  the  inside  of  an  um- 
brella: he  was  much  pleased  with  it,  and  I  think  he 

1  The  second  sister  in  the  family  of  the  name. 

2  Henry  was  only  better  for  a  time ;  he  was  never  really  restored  to 
health,  though  he  lived  till  1813. 


1804]  TO  MISS   HONORA  EDGEWORTH  145 

will  make  such  an  umbrella.  .  .  .  Tell  Sneyd  that  we 
saw  at  Edinburgh  his  old  friend  the  Irish  giant.  I 
suppose  he  remembers  seeing  him  at  Bristol.  He  is  so 
tall  that  he  can  with  ease  lean  his  arm  on  the  top  of  the 
room  door.  I  stood  beside  him,  and  the  top  of  my 
head  did  not  reach  to  his  hip.  My  father  laid  his  hand 
withinside  of  the  giant's  hand,  and  it  looked  as  small 
as  little  Harriet's  would  in  John  Langan's.  This  poor 
giant  looks  very  sallow  and  unhealthy,  and  seemed  not 
to  like  to  sit  or  stand  all  day  for  people  to  look  at  him. 

After  the  return  of  the  family  to  Edgeworthstown, 
Miss  Edgeworth  at  once  began  to  occupy  herself  with 
preparing  for  the  press  "Popular  Tales,"  which  were 
published  this  year.  She  also  began  "Emilie  de  Cou- 
langes,"  "Madame  de  Fleury,"  and  "Ennui,"  and  wrote 
"Leonora,"  with  the  romantic  purpose  already  men- 
tioned. 

In  1804  she  found  time  to  write  "Griselda,"  which 
she  amused  herself  with  at  odd  moments  in  her  own 
room  without  telling  her  father  what  she  was  about. 
When  finished,  she  sent  it  to  Johnson,  who  had  the 
good-nature,  at  her  request,  to  print  a  title-page  for  a 
single  copy  without  her  name  to  it :  he  then  sent  it  over 
to  Mr.  Edgeworth  as  a  new  novel  just  come  out.  Mr. 
Edgeworth  read  it  with  surprise  and  admiration.  He 
could  not  believe  Maria  could  have  had  the  actual  time 
to  write  it,  and  yet  it  was  so  like  her  style;  he  at  last 
exclaimed,  "It  must  be  Anna's.  Anna  has  written 
this  to  please  me.  It  is  by  some  one  we  are  interested 
in,  Mary  was  so  anxious  I  should  read  it."  Miss  Sneyd 
was  in  the  secret,  and  had  several  times  put  it  before 


146  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1804 

him  on  the  table;  at  last  she  told  him  it  was  Maria's. 
He  was  amused  at  the  trick,  and  delighted  at  having 
admired  the  hook  without  knowing  its  author. 

MARIA    TO    MISS    CHAKLOTTE    SNEYD. 

BLACK  CASTLE,  December,  1804. 

Though  Henry  will  bring  you  all  the  news  of  this 
enchanted  castle,  and  though  you  will  hear  it  far  better 
from  his  lips  than  from  my  pen,  I  cannot  let  him  go 
without  a  line.  I  need  not  tell  you  I  am  perfectly 
happy  here,  and  only  find  the  day  too  short.  Pray 
make  Henry  give  you  an  account  of  the  grand  dinner 
we  were  at,  and  the  Spanish  priest  who  called  Kousseau 
and  Voltaire  vagabones,  and  the  gentleman  who  played 
the  "  Highland  Laddie "  on  the  guitar,  and  of  Mr. 
Grainger,  who  was  present  at  one  of  the  exhibitions  of 
that  German  spectre-monger  celebrated  in  Wraxall. 

The  cottages  are  improving  here,  the  people  have 
paved  their  yards,  and  plant  roses  against  their  walls. 
My  aunt  likes  "Ennui."  I  had  thoughts  of  finishing 
it  here,  but  every  day  I  find  some  excuse  for  idleness. 

TO    MISS    HONORA    EDGEWORTH. 

BLACK  CASTLE,  January,  1805. 

I  have  thought  of  you  often  when  I  heard  things  that 
would  entertain  you,  and  thought  I  had  collected  a 
great  store,  but  when  I  rummage  in  my  head,  for  want 
of  having  had  or  taken  time  to  keep  the  drawers  of  my 
cabinet  of  memory  tidy,  I  cannot  find  one  single  thing 
that  I  want,  except  that  it  is  said  that  plants  raised 
from  cuttings  do  not  bear  such  fine  flowers  as  those 
raised  from  seeds;  that  a  lady,  whose  parrot  had  lost 


1805]  TO  MISS   RUXTON  147 

all  its  feathers,  made  him  a  flannel  jacket.  ...  I  will 
bring  a  specimen  of  the  silk  spun  by  the  Processio- 
naires,  of  whom  my  aunt  gave  you  the  history.  There 
is  a  cock  here  who  is  as  great  a  tyrant  in  his  own  way 
as  Buonaparte,  and  a  poor  Barbary  cock  who  has  no 
claws  has  the  misfortune  to  live  in  the  same  yard  with 
him;  he  will  not  suffer  this  poor  defenseless  fellow  to 
touch  a  morsel  or  grain  of  all  the  good  things  Margaret 
throws  to  them  till  he  and  all  his  protege'es  are  satisfied. 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  February  26, 1805. 

I  have  been  reading  a  power  of  good  books :  "  Mon- 
tesquieu sur  la  Grandeur  et  Decadence  des  Remains," 
which  I  recommend  to  you  as  a  book  you  will  admire, 
because  it  furnishes  so  much  food  for  thought;  it  shows 
how  history  may  be  studied  for  the  advantage  of  man- 
kind, not  for  the  mere  purpose  of  remembering  facts 
and  repeating  them. 

Sneyd 1  has  come  home  to  spend  a  week  of  vacation 
with  us.  He  is  now  full  of  logic,  and  we  perpetually 
hear  the  words  syllogisms  and  predicates,  majors  and 
minors,  universals  and  particulars,  affirmatives  and 
negatives,  and  BAROK  and  BARBARA,  not  Barbara 
Allen  or  any  of  her  relations;  and  we  have  learnt  by 
logic  that  a  stone  is  not  an  animal,  and  conversely  that 
an  animal  is  not  a  stone.  I  really  think  a  man  talking 
logic  on  the  stage  might  be  made  as  diverting  as  the 
character  of  the  Apprentice  who  is  arithmetically  mad; 
pray  read  it:  my  father  read  it  to  us  a  few  nights  ago, 
and  though  I  had  a  most  violent  headache,  so  that  I 
i  Second  son  of  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Edgewortb. 


148  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAKCH 

was  forced  to  hold  my  head  on  both  sides  whilst  I 
laughed,  yet  I  could  not  refrain.  Much  I  attribute  to 
my  father's  reading,  but  something  must  be  left  to 
Murphy.  I  have  some  idea  of  writing,  in  the  intervals 
of  my  severer  studies  for  "Professional  Education,"  a 
comedy  for  my  father's  birthday,  but  I  shall  do  it  up 
in  my  own  room,  and  shall  not  produce  it  till  it  is  fin- 
ished. I  found  the  first  hint  of  it  in  the  strangest 
place  that  anybody  could  invent,  for  it  was  in  Dallas' s 
"History  of  the  Maroons,"  and  you  may  read  the  book 
to  find  it  out,  and  ten  to  one  you  miss  it.  At  all 
events  pray  read  the  book,  for  it  is  extremely  interest- 
ing and  entertaining:  it  presents  a  new  world  with  new 
manners  to  the  imagination,  and  the  whole  bears  the 
stamp  of  truth.  It  is  not  well  written  in  general,  but 
there  are  particular  parts  admirable  from  truth  of  de- 
scription and  force  of  feeling. 

Your  little  goddaughter  Sophy  is  one  of  the  most 
engaging  little  creatures  I  ever  saw,  and  knows  almost 
all  the  birds  and  beasts  in  Bewick,  from  the  tom-tit  to 
the  hip-po-pot-a-mus,  and  names  them  in  a  sweet  little 
droll  voice. 

TO  HENRY  EDGE  WORTH,  AT  EDINBURGH. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  March,  1805. 

It  gives  me  the  most  sincere  pleasure  to  see  your  let- 
ters to  my  father  written  just  as  if  you  were  talking  to 
a  favorite  friend  of  your  own  age,  and  with  that  manly 
simplicity  characteristic  of  your  mind  and  manner  from 
the  time  you  were  able  to  speak.  There  is  something 
in  this  perfect  openness  and  in  the  courage  of  daring  to 
be  always  yourself,  which  attaches  more  than  I  can 


1805]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  KUXTON  149 

express,    more    than   all   the    Chesterfieldian    arts    and 
graces  that  ever  were  practiced. 

The  worked  sleeves  are  for  Mrs.  Stewart,  and  you  are 
to  offer  them  to  her,  —  nobody  can  say  I  do  not  know 
how  to  choose  my  ambassadors  well !  If  Mrs.  Stewart 
should  begin  to  say,  "  Oh !  it  is  a  pity  Miss  Edge  worth 
should  spend  her  time  at  such  work ! "  please  to  inter- 
rupt her  speech,  though  that  is  very  rude,  and  tell  her 
that  I  like  work  very  much,  and  that  I  have  only  done 
this  at  odd  times,  after  breakfast,  you  know,  when 
my  father  reads  out  Pope's  Homer,  or  when  there  are 
long  sittings,  when  it  is  much  more  agreeable  to  move 
one's  fingers  than  to  have  to  sit  with  hands  crossed  or 
clasped  immovably.  I  by  no  means  accede  to  the  doc- 
trine that  ladies  cannot  attend  to  anything  else  when 
they  are  working:  besides,  it  is  contrary,  is  not  it,  to 
all  the  theories  of  "  Zoonomia  "  ?  Does  not  Dr.  Darwin 
show  that  certain  habitual  motions  go  on  without  inter- 
rupting trains  of  thought?  And  do  not  common  sense 
and  experience,  whom  I  respect  even  above  Dr.  Darwin, 
show  the  same  thing? 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    KUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  March  25, 1805. 

To-morrow  we  all,  viz.  Mr.  Edgeworth,  two  Miss 
Sneyds,  and  Miss  Harriet  Beaufort,  and  Miss  Fanny 
Brown,  and  Miss  Maria,  and  Miss  Charlotte,  and  Miss 
Honora,  and  Mr.  William  Edgeworth,  go  in  one  coach 
and  one  chaise  to  Castle  Forbes,  to  see  a  play  acted  by 
the  ladies  Elizabeth  and  Adelaide  Forbes,  Miss  Parkins, 
Lord  Rancliffe,  Lord  Forbes,  and  I  don't  know  how 
many  grandees  with  tufts  on  their  heads,  for  every 


150  MAEIA  EDGEWOKTH  [MAY 

grandee  man  must  now,  you  know,  have  a  tuft  or  ridge 
of  hair  upon  the  middle  of  his  pate.  Have  you  read 
Kotzebue's  "Paris"?  Some  parts  entertaining,  mostly 
stuff.  We  have  heard  from  Lovell,  still  a  prisoner,  at 
Verdun,  and  in  hopes  of  peace,  poor  fellow. 

TO    C.    SNEYD    EDGEWORTH,    AT    TKINITT    COLLEGE, 
DUBLIN. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  May  4, 1805. 

We  are  all  very  happy  and  tolerably  merry  with  the 
assistance  of  William  and  the  young  tribe,  who  are 
always  at  his  heels  and  in  full  chorus  with  him.  Char- 
lotte cordials  me  twice  a  day  with  "Cecilia,"  which  she 
reads  charmingly,  and  which  entertains  me  as  much  at 
the  third  reading  as  it  did  at  the  first. 

We  are  a  little,  but  very  little  afraid  of  being  swal- 
lowed up  by  the  French:  they  have  so  much  to  swallow 
and  digest  before  they  come  to  us!  They  did  come 
once  very  near,  to  be  sure,  but  they  got  nothing  by  it. 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    BTJXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  June  1, 1805. 

My  father's  birthday  was  kept  yesterday,  much  more 
agreeably  than  last  year,  for  then  we  had  company  in 
the  house.  Yesterday  Sneyd,  now  at  home  for  his 
vacation,  who  is  ever  the  promoter  of  gayety,  contrived 
a  pretty  little  fete  champ  etre,  which  surprised  us  all 
most  agreeably.  After  dinner  he  persuaded  me  that  it 
was  indispensably  necessary  for  my  health  that  I  should 
take  an  airing ;  accordingly  the  chaise  came  to  the  door, 
and  Anne  Nangle,  and  my  mother,  with  little  Lucy  in 
her  arms,  and  Maria  were  rolled  off,  and  after  them  on 


1805]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  EUXTON  151 

horseback  came  rosy  Charlotte,  all  smiles,  and  Henry, 
with  eyes  brilliant  with  pleasure  —  riding  again  with 
Charlotte  after  eight  months'  absence.  It  was  a  de- 
lightful evening,  and  we  thought  we  were  pleasing  our- 
selves sufficiently  by  the  airing,  so  we  came  home  think- 
ing of  nothing  at  all,  when,  as  we  drove  round,  our 
ears  were  suddenly  struck  with  the  sound  of  music,  and 
as  if  by  enchantment,  a  fairy  festival  appeared  upon  the 
green.  In  the  midst  of  an  amphitheatre  of  verdant 
festoons  suspended  from  white  staffs,  on  which  the  scar- 
let streamers  of  the  yeomen  were  flying,  appeared  a 
company  of  youths  and  maidens  in  white,  their  heads 
adorned  with  flowers,  dancing;  while  their  mothers  and 
their  little  children  were  seated  on  benches  round  the 
amphitheatre.  John  Langan  sat  on  the  pier  of  the 
dining-room  steps,  with  Harriet  on  one  knee  and  Sophy 
on  the  other,  and  Fanny  standing  beside  him.  In  the 
course  of  the  evening  William  danced  a  reel  with  Fanny 
and  Harriet,  to  the  great  delight  of  the  spectators. 
Cakes  and  syllabubs  served  in  great  abundance  by  good 
Kitty,  formed  no  inconsiderable  part  of  the  pleasures  of 
the  evening.  William,  who  is  at  present  in  the  height 
of  electrical  enthusiasm,  proposed  to  the  dancers  a  few 
electrical  sparks,  to  complete  the  joys  of  the  day.  All 
—  men,  women,  and  children  —  flocked  into  the  study 
after  him  to  be  shocked,  and  their  various  gestures  and 
expressions  of  surprise  and  terror  mixed  with  laughter, 
were  really  diverting  to  my  mother,  Anne  Nangle,  and 
me,  who  had  judiciously  posted  ourselves  in  the  gallery. 
Charlotte  and  Sneyd,  as  soon  as  it  was  dark,  came  to 
summon  us,  and  we  found  the  little  amphitheatre  on  the 
grass-plat  illuminated,  the  lights  mixed  with  the  green 


152  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [1805 

boughs  and  flowers  were  beautiful,  and  boys  with  flam- 
beaux waving  about  had  an  excellent  effect.  I  do  wish 
you  could  have  seen  the  honest,  happy  face  of  George, 
as  he  held  his  flambeau  bolt  upright  at  his  station, 
looking  at  his  own  pretty  daughter  Mary.  Oh,  my  dear 
aunt,  how  much  our  pleasure  would  have  been  increased 
if  you  had  been  sitting  beside  us  at  the  dining-room 
window. 

TO    MISS    MARGARET    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  June  21, 1805. 

I  had  a  most  pleasant  long  letter  from  my  father 
to-day.  He  has  become  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Crewe 
—  "Buff  and  blue  and  Mrs.  Crewe"  —  and  gives  an 
account  of  a  dejeuner  at  which  he  assisted  at  her  house 
at  Hampstead  as  quite  delightful.  Miss  Crewe  charmed 
him  by  praising  "To-morrow,"  and  he  claimed,  he  says, 
remuneration  on  the  spot  —  a  song,  which  it  is  not  easy 
to  obtain;  she  sang,  and  he  thought  her  singing  worthy 
of  its  celebrity.  He  was  charmed  with  old  Dr.  Burney, 
who  at  eighty-two  was  the  most  lively,  well-bred,  agree- 
able man  in  the  room.  Lord  Stanhope  begged  to  be 
presented  to  him,  and  he  thought  him  the  most  wonder- 
ful man  he  ever  met. 

Tell  my  aunt  "  Leonora  "  is  in  the  press. 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  September  6, 1805. 
Thank  you,  thank  you.      Unless  you  could  jump  into 
that  skin  out  of  which  I  was  ready  to  jump  when  your 
letter  was  read,  you  could  not  tell  how  very  much  I  am 
obliged  by  your  so  kindly  consenting  to  come. 


1806]  TO  MISS   SOPHY  RUXTON  153 

I  have  been  at  Pakenham  Hall  and  Castle  Forbes;  at 
Pakenham  Hall  I  was  delighted  with  "that  sweetest 
music,"  the  praises  of  a  friend,  from  a  person  of  judg- 
ment and  taste.  I  do  not  know  when  I  have  felt  so 
much  pleasure  as  in  hearing  sweet  Kitty  Pakenham 
speak  of  your  Sophy;  I  never  saw  her  look  more  ani- 
mated or  more  pretty  than  when  she  was  speaking  of 
her. 

Lady  Elizabeth  Pakenham  has  sent  to  me  a  little 
pony,  as  quiet  and  almost  as  small  as  a  dog,  on  which 
I  go  trit  trot,  trit  trot;  but  I  hope  it  will  never  take  it 
into  its  head  to  add 

"  When  we  come  to  the  stile, 
Skip  we  go  over." 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  February  7, 1806. 

I  am  ashamed  to  tell  you  I  have  been  so  idle  that  I 
have  not  yet  finished  "Madame  de  Fleury."  You  will 
allow  that  we  have  gadded  about  enough  lately:  Sonna, 
Pakenham  Hall,  Farnham,  and  Castle  Forbes.  I  don't 
think  I  told  you  that  I  grew  quite  fond  of  Lady  Judith 
Maxwell,  and  I  natter  myself  she  did  not  dislike  me, 
because  she  did  not  keep  me  in  the  ante-chamber  of  her 
mind,  but  let  me  into  the  boudoir  at  once. 

So  Lord  Henry  Petty  is  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer 
—  at  twenty-four  on  the  pinnacle  of  glory ! 

Sneyd  and  Charlotte  have  begun  "  Sir  Charles  Gran- 
dison;  "  I  almost  envy  them  the  pleasure  of  reading 
Clementina's  history  for  the  first  time.  It  is  one  of 
those  pleasures  which  is  never  repeated  in  life. 


154  MARIA  EDGEWOETH  [MARCH 

TO    MBS.    EDGEWORTH. 

ROSSTKEVOR,  March  21,  1806. 

I  have  spent  a  very  happy  week  at  Collon ; 1  I  never 
saw  your  mother  in  such  excellent  spirits.  She  and 
Dr.  Beaufort  were  so  good  as  to  bring  me  to  Dundalk, 
where  my  aunt  had  appointed  to  meet  me;  but  her 
courage  failed  her  about  going  over  the  Mountain  road, 
and  she  sent  Mr.  Corry's  chaise  with  hired  horses.  I 
foresaw  we  should  have  a  battle  about  those  horses,  and 
so  we  had  —  only  a  skirmish,  in  which  I  came  off  vic- 
torious! Your  father,  who,  next  to  mine,  is,  I  think, 
the  best  and  most  agreeable  traveler  in  the  world, 
walked  us  about  Dundalk  and  to  the  Quay,  etc.,  whilst 
the  horses  were  resting,  and  we  ate  black  cherries  and 
were  very  merry.  They  pitied  me  for  the  ten-mile 
stage  I  was  to  go  alone,  but  I  did  not  pity  myself,  for 
I  had  Sir  William  Jones's  and  Sir  William  Chambers 's 
"  Asiatic  Miscellany. "  The  metaphysical  poetry  of  India, 
however,  is  not  to  my  taste;  and  though  the  Indian 
Cupid,  with  his  bow  of  sugar-cane  and  string  of  bees 
and  five  arrows  for  the  five  senses,  is  a  very  pretty  and 
very  ingenious  little  fellow,  I  have  a  preference  in  favor 
of  our  own  Cupid,  and  of  the  two  would  rather  leave 
orders  with  "my  porter"  to  admit  the  "well-known 
boy."2 

Besides  the  company  of  Sir  William  Jones,  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  on  the  road  Mr.  Parkinson  Ruxton 

1  Dr.  Beaufort,  father  of  the  fourth  Mrs.  Edgeworth,  was  Vicar  of 
Collon. 

2  From  an  Address  to  Cupid,  by  the  Due  de  Nivernois,  translated  by 
Mr.  Edgeworth. 


1806]  TO  MRS.   EDGE  WORTH  155 

and  Sir  Chichester  Fortescue,  who  had  been  commis- 
sioned by  my  aunt  to  hail  me;  they  accordingly  did  so, 
and  after  a  mutual  broadside  of  compliments,  they 
sheered  off.  The  road  to  Newry  is  like  Wales  —  Ra- 
vensdale,  three  miles  of  wood,  glen,  and  mountain. 

My  aunt  and  Sophy  were  on  the  steps  of  the  inn  at 
Newry  to  receive  me.  The  road  from  Newry  to  Ross- 
trevor  is  both  sublime  and  beautiful.  The  inn  at  Ross- 
trevor  is  like  the  best  sort  of  English  breakfasting  inn. 
But  to  proceed  with  my  journey,  for  I  must  go  two 
miles  and  a  half  from  Rosstrevor  to  my  aunt's  house. 
Sublime  mountains  and  sea  —  road,  a  flat,  graveled 
walk,  walled  on  the  precipice  side.  You  see  a  slated 
English  or  Welsh  looking  farmhouse  amongst  some 
stunted  trees,  apparently  in  the  sea;  you  turn  down  a 
long  avenue  of  firs,  only  three  feet  high,  but  old-look- 
ing, six  rows  deep  on  each  side.  The  two  former  pro- 
prietors of  this  mansion  had  opposite  tastes  —  one  all 
for  straight,  and  the  other  all  for  serpentine  lines;  and 
there  was  a  war  between  snug  and  picturesque,  of  which 
the  traces  appear  every  step  you  proceed.  You  seem 
driving  down  into  the  sea,  to  which  this  avenue  leads; 
but  you  suddenly  turn  and  go  back  from  the  shore, 
through  stunted  trees  of  various  sorts  scattered  over  a 
wild  common,  then  a  dwarf  mixture  of  shrubbery  and 
orchard,  and  you  are  at  the  end  of  the  house,  which  is 
pretty.  The  front  is  ugly,  but  from  it  you  look  upon 
the  bay  of  Carlingford  —  Carlingford  Head  opposite  to 
you  —  vessels  under  sail,  near  and  distant  —  little 
islands,  sea-birds,  and  landmarks  standing  in  the  sea. 
Behind  the  house  the  mountains  of  Morne.  I  saw  all 
this  with  admiration,  tired  as  I  was,  for  it  was  seven 


156  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [MARCH 

o'clock.  In  the  parlor  is  a  surprising  chimney-piece, 
as  gigantic  as  that  at  Grandsire's  at  Calais,  with  won- 
derful wooden  ornaments  and  a  tablet  representing 
Alexander's  progress  through  India,  he  looking  very 
pert,  driving  four  lions. 

After  dinner  I  was  so  tired,  that  in  spite  of  all  my 
desire  to  see  and  hear,  I  was  obliged  to  lie  down  and 
rest.  After  resting,  but  not  sleeping,  I  groped  my 
way  down  the  broad  old  staircase,  felt  my  road,  passed 
two  clockcases  on  the  landing-place,  and  arrived  in  the 
parlor,  where  I  was  glad  to  see  candles  and  tea,  and  my 
dear  aunt  and  Sophy  and  Margaret's  illumined,  affec- 
tionate faces.  Tea.  "Come,  now,"  says  my  aunt, 
"  let  us  show  Maria  the  wonderful  passage ;  it  looks  best 
by  candlelight."  I  followed  my  guide  through  a  place 
that  looks  like  Mrs.  Radcliffe  in  lower  life  —  passage 
after  passage,  very  low-roofed,  and  full  of  strange  lum- 
ber; came  to  a  den  of  a  bedchamber,  then  another,  and 
a  study,  all  like  the  hold  of  a  ship,  and  fusty ;  but  in 
this  study  were  mahogany  bookcases,  glass  doors,  and 
well-bound,  excellent  books.  All  kinds  of  tables, 
broken  and  stowed  on  top  of  each  other,  and  parts  of 
looking-glasses,  looking  as  if  they  had  been  there  a 
hundred  years,  and  jelly  glasses  on  a  glass  stand,  as  if 
somebody  had  supped  there  the  night  before.  Turn 
from  the  study  and  you  see  a  staircase,  more  like  a  step- 
ladder,  very  narrow,  but  one  could  squeeze  up  at  a 
time,  by  which  we  went  into  a  place  like  that  you  may 
remember  at  the  Post  House  in  the  Low  Countries  — 
two  chambers,  if  chambers  they  could  be  called,  quite 
remote  from  the  rest  of  the  house,  low  ceilings,  strange 
scraps  of  many-colored  paper  on  the  walls,  an  old  camp 


1806]  TO   MRS.   EDGEWORTH  157 

bed,  a  feather  bed  with,  half  the  feathers  out;  one 
window,  low,  but  wide. 

"Out  of  that  window,"  said  my  aunt,  "as  Isabella 
told  us,  the  corpse  was  carried." 

"  Who  is  Isabella  ?  "  cried  I ;  but  before  my  aunt 
could  answer  I  was  struck  with  new  wonder  at  the  sight 
of  two  French  looking-glasses,  in  gilt  frames,  side  by 
side,  reaching  from  the  ceiling  to  the  floor,  and  placed 
exactly  opposite  the  bed ! 1 

I  was  now  so  tired  that  I  could  neither  see,  hear,  or 
understand,  imagine,  or  wonder  any  longer.  Sophy 
somehow  managed  to  get  my  clothes  off,  and  literally 
put  me  into  bed.  The  images  of  all  these  people  and 
things  flitted  before  my  eyes  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
then  I  was  fast  asleep. 

Mrs.  and  Miss  Fortescue  came  in  the  morning,  and 
among  other  things  mentioned  the  fancy  ball  in  Dublin. 
Mrs.  Sheridan2  was  the  handsomest  woman  there.  The 
Duchess  of  Bedford  was  dressed  as  Mary  Queen  of  Scots, 
and  danced  with  Lord  Darnley.  At  supper  the  Duchess 
motioned  to  Lady  Darnley  to  come  to  her  table;  but 
Lady  Darnley  refused,  as  she  had  a  party  of  young 
ladies.  The  Duchess  reproached  her  rather  angrily. 
"Oh,"  said  Lady  Darnley,  "when  the  Queen  of  Scots 
was  talking  to  Darnley,  it  would  not  have  done  for  me 
to  have  been  too  near  them." 

1  This  mysterious  apartment  had  belonged  to  a  poor  crazed  lady  who 
died  there,  and  who  had,  as  Isabella,  the  gardener's  wife,  related,  a  pas- 
sion for  fine  papers,  different  patterns  of  which  were  put  on  the  walls  to 
please  her,  and  also  the  French  mirrors,  on  which  she  delighted  to  look 
from  her  bed.    And  when  she  died  her  coffin  was,  to  avoid  the  crooked 
passages,  taken  out  of  the  window. 

2  Mrs.  Tom  Sheridan. 


158  MARIA  EDGEWORTH 


MRS.    EDGEWORTH    TO    MISS    SOPHY    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  April  13,  1806. 

We  were  at  Gaybrook  when  your  letter  came,  and 
when  the  good  news  of  Miss  Pakenham's  happiness 
arrived  :  *  it  was  announced  there^"  in  a  very  pleasant, 
sprightly  letter  from  your  friend  Miss  Fortescue.  Your 
account  of  the  whole  affair  is  really  admirable,  and  is 
one  of  those  tales  of  real  life  in  which  the  romance  is 
far  superior  to  the  generality  of  fictions.  I  hope  the 
imaginations  of  this  hero  and  heroine  have  not  been  too 
much  exalted,  and  that  they  may  not  find  the  enjoy- 
ment of  a  happiness  so  long  wished  for  inferior  to  what 
they  expected.  Pray  tell  dear  good  Lady  Elizabeth  we 
are  so  delighted  with  the  news,  and  so  engrossed  by  it, 
that,  waking  or  sleeping,  the  image  of  Miss  Pakenham 
swims  before  our  eyes.  To  make  the  romance  perfect 
we  want  two  material  documents  —  a  description  of  the 
person  of  Sir  Arthur,  and  a  knowledge  of  the  time 
when  the  interview  after  his  return  took  place. 

MARIA    TO    MRS.    EDGEWORTH. 

ALLENSTOWN,  May  Day,  1806. 

Dr.  Beaufort,  tell  Charlotte,  saw  Sir  Arthur  Welles- 
ley  at  the  Castle  —  handsome,  very  brown,  quite  bald, 
and  a  hooked  nose.  He  could  not  travel  with  Lady 
Wellesley;  he  went  by  the  mail.  He  had  overstayed 
his  leave  a  day.  She  traveled  under  the  care  of  his 
brother,  the  clergyman. 

1  Catherine,  second  daughter  of  the  second  Lord  Longford,  married, 
10th  April,  1806,  Sir  Arthur  Wellesley,  afterwards  the  first  and  great 
Duke  of  Wellington.  He  had,  at  this  time,  just  returned  from  India, 
after  a  stay  of  eleven  years. 


1806]  TO  MISS  MARGARET  RUXTON  159 

TO    MISS    MARGARET    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  May  23, 1806. 

I  have  been  laughed  at  most  unmercifully  by  some  of 
the  phlegmatic  personages  round  the  library  table  for 
my  impatience  to  send  you  "The  Mine."  "Do  you 
think  Margaret  cannot  live  five  minutes  longer  without 
it?  Saddle  the  mare,  and  ride  to  Dublin,  and  thence 
to  Black  Castle  or  Chantony  with  it,  my  dear ! " 

I  bear  all  with  my  accustomed  passiveness,  and  am 
rewarded  by  my  father's  having  bought  it  for  me;  and 
it  is  now  at  Archer's  for  you.  Observe,  I  think  the 
poem,  as  a  drama,  tiresome  in  the  extreme,  and  absurd, 
but  I  wish  you  to  see  that  the  very  letters  from  the 
man  in  the  quicksilver  mine  which  you  recommended 
to  me  have  been  seized  upon  by  a  poet  of  no  inferior 
genius.  Some  of  the  strophes  of  the  fairies  are  most 
beautifully  poetic. 

Lady  Elizabeth  Pakenham  told  us  that  when  Lady 
Wellesley  was  presented  to  the  Queen,  Her  Majesty 
said,  "I  am  happy  to  see  you  at  my  court,  so  bright  an 
example  of  constancy.  If  anybody  in  this  world  de- 
serves to  be  happy,  you  do."  Then  Her  Majesty 
inquired,  "But  did  you  really  never  write  one  letter  to 
Sir  Arthur  Wellesley  during  his  long  absence?"  "No, 
never,  madam."  "And  did  you  never  think  of  him?" 
"Yes,  madam,  very  often." 

I  am  glad  constancy  is  approved  of  at  courts,  and 
hope  "  the  bright  example  "  may  be  followed. 


160  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [1806 

TO    MISS    SOPHY    BUXTONT. 

EDGEWOKTHSTOWN,  July  12, 1806. 

This  is  the  third  sheet  of  paper  in  the  smallest  hand 
I  could  write  I  have  had  the  honor  within  these  three 
days  to  spoil  in  your  service,  stuffed  full  of  geological 
and  chemical  facts,  which  we  learned  from  our  two 
philosophical  travelers,  Davy  and  Greenough;  hut  when 
finished  I  persuaded  myself  they  were  not  worth  send- 
ing. Many  of  the  facts  I  find  you  have  in  Thomson 
and  Nicholson,  which,  "owing  to  my  ignorance,"  as 
pure  Sir  Hugh  Tyrold  would  say,  "I  did  not  rightly 
know. " 

Our  travelers  have  just  left  us,  and  my  head  is  in 
great  danger  of  hursting  from  the  multifarious  treasures 
that  have  been  stowed  and  crammed  into  it  in  the 
course  of  one  week.  Mr.  Davy  is  wonderfully  im- 
proved since  you  saw  him  at  Bristol:  he  has  an  amazing 
fund  of  knowledge  upon  all  subjects,  and  a  great  deal 
of  genius.  Mr.  Greenough  has  not,  at  first  sight,  a 
very  intelligent  countenance,  yet  he  is  very  intelligent, 
and  has  a  good  deal  of  literature  and  anecdote,  foreign 
and  domestic,  and  a  taste  for  wit  and  humor.  He  has 
traveled  a  great  deal,  and  relates  well.  Dr.  Beddoes  is 
much  better,  but  my  father  does  not  think  his  health 
safe.  I  am  very  well,  but  shamefully  idle,  —  indeed, 
I  have  done  nothing  but  hear;  and  if  I  had  had  a 
dozen  pair  extraordinary  of  ears,  and  as  many  heads,  I 
do  not  think  I  could  have  heard  or  held  all  that  was 
said. 


1807]  TO  MISS  RUXTON  161 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  February,  1807. 

While  Charlotte1  was  pretty  well  we  paid  our  long 
promised  visit  to  Coolure,  and  passed  a  few  very  pleas- 
ant days  there.  Admiral  Pakenham  is  very  entertain- 
ing, and  appears  very  amiable  in  the  midst  of  his  chil- 
dren, who  dote  on  him.  He  spoke  very  handsomely  of 
your  darling  brother,  and  diverted  us  by  the  mode  in 
which  he  congratulated  Richard  on  his  marriage:  "I 
give  you  joy,  my  good  friend,  and  I  am  impatient  to 
see  the  woman  who  has  made  an  honest  man  of  you." 

Colonel  Edward  Pakenham  burned  his  instep  by  fall- 
ing asleep  before  the  fire,  out  of  which  a  turf  fell  on  his 
foot,  and  so  he  was,  luckily  for  us,  detained  a  few  days 
longer,  and  dined  and  breakfasted  at  Coolure.  He  is 
very  agreeable,  and  unaffected,  and  modest,  after  all  the 
flattery  he  has  met  with.2 

TO    MBS.  RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  September,  1807. 

My  beloved  aunt  and  friend,  —  friend  to  my  least 
fancies  as  well  as  to  my  largest  interests,  —  thank  you 
for  the  six  fine  rose-trees,  and  thank  you  for  the  little 
darling  double-flowering  almond-tree.  Sneyd  asked  if 
there  was  nothing  for  him,  so  I  very  generously  gave 
him  the  polyanthuses  and  planted  them  with  my  own 
hands  at  the  corners  of  his  garden  pincushions. 

Mr.   Hammond  may  satisfy  himself  as  to  the  union 

1  Charlotte  Edgeworth,  the  idol  and  beauty  of  the  family,  died,  after 
a  long  illness,  7th  April,  1807. 

2  Colonel,  afterwards  Sir  Edward  Pakenham,  distinguished  in  the 
Peninsular  War,  fell  in  action  at  New  Orleans,  8th  January,  1815. 


162  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [1807 

of  commerce  and  literature  by  simply  reading  the  his- 
tory of  the  Medici,  where  commerce,  literature,  and  the 
arts  made  one  of  the  most  splendid,  useful,  and  power- 
ful coalitions  that  ever  were  seen  in  modern  times. 
Here  is  a  fine  sentence!  Mr.  Hammond  once,  when 
piqued  by  my  raillery,  declared  that  he  never  in  his  life 
saw,  or  could  have  conceived,  till  he  saw  me,  that  a 
philosopher  could  laugh  so  much  and  so  heartily. 

Inclosed  I  send  a  copy  of  an  epitaph  written  by  Louis 
XVIII.,  on  the  Abbs'  Edgeworth;  I  am  sure  the  inten- 
tion does  honor  to  H.  M.  heart,  and  the  critics  here  say 
the  Latin  does  honor  to  H.  M.  head.  William  Beau- 
fort, who  sent  it  to  my  father,  says  the  epitaph  was 
communicated  to  him  by  a  physician  at  Cork,  who,  being 
a  Roman  Catholic  of  learning  and  foreign  education, 
maintains  a  considerable  correspondence  in  foreign  coun- 
tries. 

TO  HENKY  EDGEWORTH,  IN  LONDON. 

PAKENHAM  HALL,  Christmas  Day,  1807. 

A  Merry  Christmas  to  you,  my  dear  Henry  and 
Sneyd!  I  wish  you  were  here  at  this  instant,  and  you 
would  be  sure  of  one;  for  this  is  really  the  most  agree- 
able family  and  the  pleasantest  and  most  comfortable 
castle  I  ever  was  in. 

We  came  here  yesterday  —  the  we  being  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Edgeworth,  Honora,  and  M.  E.  A  few  minutes 
after  we  came,  arrived  Hercules  Pakenham  —  the  first 
time  he  had  met  his  family  since  his  return  from  Copen- 
hagen. My  father  has  scarcely  ever  quitted  his  elbow 
since  he  came,  and  has  been  all  ear  and  no  tongue. 

Lady  Wellesley  was  prevented  by  engagements  from 


1808]  TO  C.   SNEYD  EDGEWORTH  163 

joining  this  party  at  Pakenhain  Hall;  both  the  Duke 
and  Duchess  of  Richmond  are  so  fond  of  her  as  no 
tongue  can  tell.  The  Duke  must  have  a  real  friendship 
for  Sir  Arthur;  for  while  he  was  at  Copenhagen  his 
Grace  did  all  the  business  of  his  office  for  him. 

TO  C.  SNEYD  EDGEWORTH,  IN  LONDON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  January  1, 1808. 

A  Happy  New  Year  to  you,  my  dear  Sneyd.  It  is 
so  dark,  I  can  hardly  see  to  write,  and  it  has  been  pour- 
ing such  torrents  of  rain,  hail,  and  snow,  that  I  began 
to  think,  with  John  Langan,  that  the  "old  prophecies 
found  in  a  bog  "  were  all  accomplishing,  and  that  Slieve- 
gaulry  was  beginning  to  set  out 1  on  its  proposed  jour- 
ney. My  mother  has  told  you  about  these  predictions, 
and  the  horror  they  have  spread  through  the  country 
entirely.  The  old  woman  who  was  the  cause  of  the 
mischief  is,  I  suppose,  no  bigger  than  a  midge's  wing, 
as  she  has  never  been  found,  though  diligent  search  has 
been  made  for  her.  Almost  all  the  people  in  this  town 
sat  up  last  night  to  receive  the  earthquake. 

We  have  had  the  same  physiognomical  or  character- 
telling  fishes  that  you  described  to  Honora.  Captain 
Hercules  Pakenham  brought  them  from  Denmark,  where 
a  Frenchman  was  selling  them  very  cheap.  Those  we 
saw  were  pale  green  and  bright  purple.  They  are  very 
curious:  my  father  was  struck  with  them  as  much,  or 
more,  than  any  of  the  children;  for  there  are  some 
wonders  which  strike  in  proportion  to  the  knowledge, 

1  An  old  woman  had,  before  Christmas,  gone  about  the  neighborhood 
saying  that,  on  New  Year's  Day,  Slievegaulry,  a  little  hill  about  five 
miles  from  Edgeworthstown,  would  come  down  with  an  earthquake, 
and  settle  on  the  village,  destroying  everything. 


164  MAEIA  EDGEWOETH  [APRIL 

instead  of  the  ignorance,  of  the  beholders.  Is  it  a  leaf? 
Is  it  galvanic  ?  What  is  it  ?  I  wish  Henry  would  talk 
to  Davy  about  it.  The  fish  lay  more  quiet  in  my 
father's  hand  than  could  have  been  expected;  only 
curled  up  their  tails  on  my  Aunt  Mary's;  tolerably 
quiet  on  my  mother's;  but  they  could  not  lie  still  one 
second  on  William's,  and  went  up  his  sleeve,  which  I 
am  told  their  German  interpreters  say  is  the  worst  sign 
they  can  give.  My  father  suggested  that  the  different 
degrees  of  dryness  or  moisture  in  the  hands  cause  the 
emotions  of  these  sensitive  fish,  but  after  drying  our 
best,  no  change  was  perceptible.  I  thought  the  pulse 
was  the  cause  of  their  motion,  but  this  does  not  hold, 
because  my  pulse  is  slow,  and  my  father's  very  quick. 
It  was  ingenious  to  make  them  in  the  shape  of  fish, 
because  their  motions  exactly  resemble  the  breathing, 
and  panting,  and  floundering,  and  tail-curling  of  fish; 
and  I  am  sure  I  have  tired  you  with  them,  and  you 
will  be  sick  of  these  fish.1 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  April,  1808. 

We  have  just  had  a  charming  letter  from  Mrs.  Bar- 
bauld,  in  which  she  asks  if  we  have  read  "Marmion," 
Mr.  Scott's  new  poem;  we  have  not.  I  have  read 
"  Corinne  "  with  my  father,  and  I  like  it  better  than  he 

1  It  was  afterwards  ascertained  that  these  conjuring  fish  had  been 
brought  from  Japan  by  the  Dutch,  and  were  made  of  horn  cut  extremely 
thin.  Their  movements  were  occasioned,  as  Mr.  Edgeworth  supposed, 
from  the  warm  moisture  of  the  hand,  but  depended  upon  the  manner  in 
which  they  were  placed.  If  the  middle  of  the  fish  was  made  to  touch 
the  warmest  part  of  the  hand,  it  contracted,  and  set  the  head  and  tail  in 
motion. 


1808]  TO  MISS  EUXTON  165 

does.  In  one  word,  I  am  dazzled  by  the  genius,  pro- 
voked by  the  absurdities,  and  in  admiration  of  the  taste 
and  critical  judgment  of  Italian  literature  displayed 
through  the  whole  work.  But  I  will  not  dilate  upon  it 
in  a  letter;  I  could  talk  of  it  for  three  hours  to  you  and 
my  aunt.  I  almost  broke  my  foolish  heart  over  the 
end  of  the  third  volume,  and  my  father  acknowledges 
he  never  read  anything  more  pathetic. 

Pray  remember  my  garden  Avhen  the  Beauforts  come 
to  us.  It  adds  very  much  to  my  happiness,  especially 
as  Honora  and  all  the  children  have  shares  in  it,  and  I 
assure  you  it  is  very  cheerful  to  see  the  merry,  scarlet- 
coated,  busy  little  workwomen  in  their  territories,  sow- 
ing, and  weeding,  and  transplanting  hour  after  hour. 

June  4. 

Lady  Elizabeth  Pakenham  and  Mrs.  Stewart  and  her 
son  Henry,  a  fine  intelligent  boy,  and  her  daughter 
Kitty,  who  promises  to  be  as  gentle  as  her  mother,  have 
been  here.  I  liked  Mrs.  Stewart's  conversation  much, 
and  thought  her  very  interesting. 

June  9. 

My  father  and  mother  have  gone  to  the  Hills  to  settle 
a  whole  clan  of  tenants  whose  leases  are  out,  and  who 
expect  that  because  they  have  all  lived  under  his 
Honor,  they  and  theirs  these  hundred  years,  that  his 
Honor  shall  and  will  contrive  to  divide  the  land  that 
supported  ten  people  amongst  their  sons  and  sons'  sons, 
to  the  number  of  a  hundred.  And  there  is  Cormac 
with  the  reverend  locks,  and  Bryan  with  the  flaxen 
wig,  and  Brady  with  the  long  brogue,  and  Paddy  with 
the  short,  and  Terry  with  the  butcher's- blue  coat,  and 


166  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1808 

Dennis  with  no  coat  at  all,  and  Eneas  Hosey's  widow, 
and  all  the  Devines  pleading  and  quarreling  about  boun- 
daries and  bits  of  bog.  I  wish  Lord  Selkirk  was  in 
the  midst  of  them,  with  his  hands  crossed  before  him; 
I  should  like  to  know  if  he  could  make  them  understand 
his  "Essay  on  Emigration." 

My  father  wrote  to  Sir  Joseph  Banks  to  apply 
through  the  French  Institute  for  leave  for  Lovell  to 
travel  as  a  literate  in  Germany,  and  I  have  frequently 
written  about  him  to  our  French  friends;  and  those 
passages  in  my  letters  were  never  answered.  All  their 
letters  are  now  written,  as  Sir  Joseph  Banks  observed, 
under  evident  constraint  and  fear. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  writes :  — 

This  summer  of  1808  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ruxton  and  their 
two  daughters  passed  some  time  with  us.  My  father, 
mother,  and  sister  came  also,  and  Maria  read  out 
"  Ennui "  in  manuscript.  We  used  to  assemble  in  the 
middle  of  the  day  in  the  library,  and  everybody  enjoyed 
it.  One  evening  when  we  were  at  dinner  with  this 
large  party,  the  butler  came  up  to  Mr.  Edgeworth. 
"Mrs.  Apreece,  sir;  she  is  getting  out  of  her  carriage." 
Mr.  Edgeworth  went  to  the  hall  door,  but  we  all  sat 
still  laughing,  for  there  had  been  so  many  jokes  about 
Mrs.  Apreece,  who  was  then  traveling  in  Ireland,  that 
we  thought  it  was  only  nonsense  of  Sneyd's,  who  we 
supposed  had  dressed  up  some  one  to  personate  her; 
and  we  were  astonished  when  Mr.  Edgeworth  presented 
her  as  the  real  Mrs.  Apreece.  She  stayed  some  days, 
and  was  very  brilliant  and  agreeable.  She  continued, 


1809]  TO   C.   SNEYD   EDGE  WORTH  167 

as  Mrs.  Apreece  and  as  Lady  Davy,  to  be  a  kind  friend 
and  correspondent  of  Maria's. 

MAKIA  TO  C.  SNETD  EDGEWORTH,  AT  EDINBURGH. 
EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  December  30, 1808. 
How  little  we  can  tell  from  day  to  day  what  will 
happen  to  us  or  our  friends.  I  promised  you  a  merry 
frankful  of  nonsense  this  day,  and  instead  of  that  we 
must  send  you  the  melancholy  account  of  poor  Dr. 
Beddoes's  death.1  I  inclose  Emmeline's  letter,  which 
will  tell  you  all  better  than  I  can.  Poor  Anna!  how 
it  has  been  possible  for  her  weak  body  to  sustain  her 
through  such  trials  and  such  exertions,  God  only  knows. 
My  father  and  mother  have  written  most  warm  and 
pressing  invitations  to  her  to  come  here  immediately, 
and  bring  all  her  children.  How  fortunate  it  was  that 
little  Tom 2  came  here  last  summer,  and  how  still  more 
fortunate  that  the  little  fellow  returned  with  Henry  to 
see  his  poor  father  before  he  died. 

TO    MRS.    RTTXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  January,  1809. 

On  Friday  we  went  to  Pakenham  Hall.  We  sat 
down  thirty-two  to  dinner,  and  in  the  evening  a  party 
of  twenty  from  Pakenham  Hall  went  to  a  grand  ball  at 
Mrs.  Pollard's.  Mrs.  Edgeworth  and  I  went,  papa  and 
Aunt  Mary  stayed  with  Lady  Elizabeth.  Lord  Long- 

1  Dr.  Beddoes,  who  had  married  Anna  Edgeworth,  was  the  author  of 
almost  innumerable  books.    His  pupil,  Sir  Humphry  Davy,  says:  "He 
had  talents  which  would  have  exalted  him  to  the  pinnacle  of  philosophi- 
cal eminence,  if  they  had  been  applied  with  discretion." 

2  Thomas  Lovell  Beddoes,  1803-1849,  author  of  The  Bride's  Tragedy, 
and  of  Death's  Jest-Book. 


168  MARIA   EDGEWOKTH  [JAN. 

ford  acted  his  part  of  Earl  Marshal  in  the  great  hall, 
sending  off  carriage  after  carriage,  in  due  precedence, 
and  with  its  proper  complement  of  beaux  and  belles.  I 
was  much  entertained:  had  Mrs.  Tuite,  and  mamma, 
and  Mrs.  Pakenham,  and  the  'Admiral  to  talk  and  laugh 
with;  saw  abundance  of  comedy.  There  were  three 

Miss s,  from  the  County  of  Tipperary,  three  degrees 

of  comparison  —  the  positive,  the  comparative,  and  the 
superlative;  excellent  figures,  with  white  feathers  as 
long  as  my  two  arms  joined  together,  stuck  in  the  front 
of  what  were  meant  for  Spanish  hats.  How  they  tow- 
ered above  their  sex,  divinely  vulgar,  with  brogues  of 
true  Milesian  race!  Supper  so  crowded  that  Caroline 
Pakenham  and  I  agreed  to  use  one  arm  by  turns,  and 
thus  with  difficulty  found  means  to  reach  our  mouths. 
Caroline  grows  upon  me  every  time  I  see  her;  she  is  as 
quick  as  lightning,  understands  with  half  a  word  literary 
allusions  as  well  as  humor,  and  follows  and  leads  in 
conversation  with  that  playfulness  and  good  breeding 
which  delight  the  more  because  they  are  so  seldom 
found  together.  We  stayed  till  between  three  and  four 
in  the  morning.  Lord  Longford  had,  to  save  our 
horses  which  had  come  a  journey,  put  a  pair  of  his 
horses  and  one  of  his  postilions  to  our  coach:  the  postil- 
ion had,  it  seems,  amused  himself  at  a  club  in  Castle 
Pollard  while  we  were  at  the  ball,  and  he  had  amused 
himself  so  much  that  he  did  not  know  the  ditch  from 
the  road;  he  was  ambitious  of  passing  Mr.  Dease's  car- 
riage—  passed  it,  attempted  to  pass  Mr.  Tuite 's,  ran 
the  wheels  on  a  drift  of  snow  which  overhung  the  ditch, 
and  laid  the  coach  fairly  down  on  its  side  in  the  ditch. 
We  were  none  of  us  hurt.  The  us  were  my  mother, 


1809]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  169 

Mr.  Henry  Pakenham,  and  myself.  My  mother  fell 
undermost;  I  never  fell  at  all,  for  I  clung  like  a  bat  to 
the  handstring  at  my  side,  determined  that  I  would  not 
fall  upon  my  mother  and  break  her  arm.  None  of  us 
were  even  bruised.  Luckily  Mrs.  Tuite's  carriage  was 
within  a  few  yards  of  us,  and  stopped,  and  the  gentle- 
men hauled  us  out  immediately.  Admiral  Pakenham 
lifted  me  up  and  carried  me  in  his  arms,  as  if  I  had 
been  a  little  doll,  and  set  me  down  actually  on  the  step 
of  Mrs.  Tuite's  carriage,  so  I  never  wet  foot  or  shoe. 
And  now,  my  dear  aunt,  I  have  established  a  character 
for  courage  in  overturns  for  the  rest  of  my  life !  The 
postilion  was  not  the  least  hurt,  nor  the  horses ;  if  they 
had  not  been  the  quietest  animals  in  the  world  we 
should  have  been  undone:  one  was  found  with  his  feet 
level  with  the  other's  head.  The  coach  could  not  be 
got  out  of  the  deep  ditch  that  night,  but  Lord  Longford 
sent  a  man  to  sleep  in  it,  that  nobody  else  might,  and 
that  no  one  might  steal  the  glasses.  It  came  out  safe 
and  sound  in  the  morning,  not  a  glass  broken.  Miss 
Fortescue,  Caroline,  and  Mr.  Henry  Pakenham  went 
up  just  as  we  left  Pakenham  Hall  to  town,  or  to  the 
Park  to  Lady  Wellesley,  who  gives  a  parting  ball,  and 
then  follows  Sir  Arthur  to  England. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  February  2, 1809. 

This  minute  I  hear  a  carman  is  going  to  Navan,  and 
I  hasten  to  send  you  the  "Cottagers  of  Glenburnie, " 1 
which  I  hope  you  will  like  as  well  as  we  do.  I  think 
it  will  do  a  vast  deal  of  good,  and  besides  it  is  extremely 

l  By  Miss  Elizabeth  Hamilton,  with  whom  Miss  Edgeworth  had  be- 
come intimate  at  Edinburgh  in  1803. 


170  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [FEB. 

interesting,  which  all  good  books  are  not;  it  has  great 
powers,  both  comic  and  tragic.  I  write  in  the  midst  of 
Fortescues  and  Pakenhams,  with  dear  Miss  Caroline  P., 
whom  I  like  every  hour  better  and  better,  sitting  on  the 
sofa  beside  me,  reading  Mademoiselle  Clairon's  "Me- 
moirs," and  talking  so  entertainingly  that  I  can  scarcely 
tell  what  I  have  said,  or  am  going  to  say. 

I  like  Mrs.  Fortescue's  conversation,  and  will,  as 
Sophy  desires,  converse  as  much  as  possible  with  obli- 
ging and  ever-cheerful  Miss  Fortescue.  But  indeed  it  is 
very  difficult  to  mind  anything  but  Caroline. 

February  5. 

Three  of  the  most  agreeable  days  I  ever  spent  we 
have  enjoyed  in  the  visit  of  our  Pakenham  Hall  friends 
to  us.  How  delightful  it  is  to  be  with  those  who  are 
sincerely  kind  and  well-bred;  I  would  not  give  m.iny 
straws  for  good  breeding  without  sincerity,  and  I  would 
give  at  any  time  ten  times  as  much  for  kindness  with 
politeness  as  for  kindness  without  it.  There  is  some- 
thing quite  captivating  in  Lady  Longford's  voice  and 
manners,  and  the  extreme  vivacity  of  her  countenance, 
and  her  quick  change  of  feelings  interested  me  particu- 
larly; I  never  saw  a  woman  so  little  spoiled  by  the 
world.  As  for  Caroline  Pakenham,  I  love  her.  They 
were  all  very  polite  about  the  reading  out  of  "Ernilie 
de  Coulanges,"  and  took  it  as  a  mark  of  kindness  from 
me,  and  not  as  an  exhibition.  Try  to  get  and  read 
the  "Life  of  Dudley  Lord  North,"  of  which  parts 
are  highly  interesting.  I  am  come  to  the  ambition  in 
"Marie  de  Menzikoff,"  which  I  like  much,  but  the  love 
is  mere  brown  sugar  and  water.  The  mother's  blind- 


1809]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  171 

ness  is  beautifully  described.  My  father  says  "Vivian" 
will  stand  next  to  "Mrs.  Beaumont"  and  "Ennui;"  I 
have  ten  days'  more  work  at  it,  and  then  huzza!  ten 
days'  more  purgatory  at  other  corrections,  and  then  a 
heaven  upon  earth  of  idleness,  and  reading,  which  is  my 
idleness.  Half  of  "Professional  Education"  is  printed. 

TO    MBS.    EUXTON. 

EDGEWOKTHSTOWK,  March,  1809. 

Indeed  you  are  quite  right  in  thinking  that  the  ex- 
pressions of  affection  from  my  uncle  and  you  are  more 
delightful  to  me  than  all  the  compliments  or  admiration 
in  the  world  could  be.  It  is  no  new  thing  for  me  to  be 
happy  at  Black  Castle,  but  I  think  I  was  particularly 
happy  there  this  last  time.  You  both  made  me  feel 
that  I  added  to  the  pleasures  of  your  fireside,  which 
after  all,  old-fashioned  or  not,  are  the  best  of  all  pleas- 
ures. How  I  did  laugh!  and  how  impossible  it  is  not 
to  laugh  in  some  company,  or  to  laugh  in  others.  I 
have  often  wondered  how  my  ideas  flow  or  ebb  without 
the  influence  of  my  will;  sometimes,  when  I  am  with 
those  I  love,  flowing  faster  than  tongue  can  utter,  and 
sometimes  ebbing,  ebbing,  till  nought  but  sand  and 
sludge  are  left. 

We  have  been  much  entertained  with  "  Le  petit  Caril- 
loneur."  I  would  send  it  to  you,  only  it  is  a  society 
book;  but  I  do  send  by  a  carman  two  volumes  of  Al- 
fieri's  "Life"  and  Kirwan's  "Essay  on  Happiness,"  and 
the  Drogheda  edition  of  "Parent's  Assistant,"  which, 
with  your  leave,  I  present  to  your  servant  Richard. 

"The  Grinding  Organ"1  went  off  on  Friday  night 

1  Afterwards  published  in  1827  in  a  small  volume,  entitled  Little 
Plays. 


172  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [APRIL 

better  than  I  could  have  expected,  and  seemed  to  please 
the  spectators.  Mrs.  Pakenham  brought  four  children, 
and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Thompson  two  sons,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Keating  two  daughters,  which,  with  the  Beauforts, 
Molly,  George,  and  the  rest  of  the  servants,  formed  the 
whole  audience.  I  am  sure  you  would  have  enjoyed 
the  pleasure  the  Bristows  showed  on  seeing  and  hearing 
Mary  Bristow  perform  her  part,  which  she  did  with 
perfect  propriety.  Sophy  and  Fanny  excellent,  but  as 
they  were  doomed  to  be  the  good  children,  they  had  not 
ample  room  and  verge  enough  to  display  powers  equal 
to  the  little  termagant  heroine  of  the  night.  William 
in  his  Old  Man  (to  use  the  newspaper  style)  correct  and 
natural.  Mr.  Edgeworth  as  the  English  Farmer  evinced 
much  knowledge  of  true  English  character  and  humor. 
Miss  Edgeworth  as  the  Widow  Ross,  "a  cursed  scold," 
was  quite  at  home.  It  is  to  be  regretted  that  the 
Widow  Boss  has  no  voice,  as  a  song  in  character  was  of 
course  expected;  the  Farmer  certainly  gave  "a  fair 
challenge  to  a  fair  lady."  His  Daniel  Cooper  was  given 
in  an  excellent  style,  and  was  loudly  encored. 

April  28. 

The  Primate  *  was  very  agreeable  during  the  two  days 
he  spent  here.  My  father  traveled  with  him  from 
Dublin  to  Ardbraccan,  and  this  reputed  silent  man 
never  ceased  talking  and  telling  entertaining  anecdotes 
till  the  carriage  stopped  at  the  steps  at  Ardbraccan. 
This  I  could  hardly  credit  till  I  myself  heard  his  Grace 
burst  forth  in  conversation.  The  truth  of  his  character 
gives  such  value  to  everything  he  says,  even  to  his 

i  William  Stuart,  Archbishop  of  Armagh,  fifth  son  of  the  third  Earl 
of  Bute. 


1809]  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  173 

humorous  stories.  He  has  two  things  in  his  character 
which  I  think  seldom  meet  —  a  strong  taste  for  humor, 
and  strong  feelings  of  indignation.  In  his  eye  you  may 
often  see  alternately  the  secret  laughing  expression  of 
humor,  and  the  sudden  open  flash  of  indignation.  He 
is  a  man  of  the  warmest  feelings,  with  the  coldest  exte- 
rior I  ever  saw  —  a  master  mind.  I  could  not  but  be 
charmed  with  him,  because  I  saw  that  he  thoroughly 
appreciated  my  father. 

"Tales  of  Fashionable  Life"  were  published  in  June, 
1809,  and  greatly  added  to  the  celebrity  of  their  au- 
thoress. "Almeria"  is  the  best,  and  full  of  admirable 
pictures  of  character.  In  all,  the  object  is  to  depict 
the  vapid  and  useless  existence  of  those  who  live  only 
for  society.  Sometimes  the  moralizing  becomes  tire- 
some. "Vraiment  Miss  Edgeworth  est  digne  de  1'en- 
thousiasme,  mais  elle  se  perd  dans  votre  triste  utilitd," 
said  Madame  de  Stael  to  M.  Dumont  when  she  had  read 
them.  In  that  age  of  romantic  fiction  an  attempt  to 
depict  life  as  it  really  was  took  the  reading  world  by 
surprise. 

"As  a  writer  of  tales  and  novels,"  wrote  Lord  Dud- 
ley in  the  "Quarterly  Review,"  "Miss  Edgeworth  has 
a  very  marked  peculiarity.  It  is  that  of  venturing  to 
dispense  common  sense  to  her  readers,  and  to  bring 
them  within  the  precincts  of  real  life  and  natural  feel- 
ing. She  presents  them  with  no  incredible  adventures 
or  inconceivable  sentiments,  no  hyperbolical  representa- 
tions of  uncommon  characters,  or  monstrous  exhibitions 
of  exaggerated  passion.  Without  excluding  love  from 
her  pages,  she  knows  how  to  assign  to  it  its  just  limits. 


174  MARIA  EDGEWOETH  [JUNE 

She  neither  degrades  the  sentiment  from  its  true  dig- 
nity, nor  lifts  it  to  a  burlesque  elevation.  It  takes  its 
proper  place  among  the  passions.  Her  heroes  and  hero- 
ines, if  such  they  may  be  called,  are  never  miraculously 
good,  nor  detestably  wicked.  They  are  such  men  and 
women  as  we  see  and  converse  with  every  day  of  our 
lives,  with  the  same  proportional  mixture  in  them  of 
what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong,  of  what  is  great  and 
what  is  little." 

Lord  Jeffrey,  writing  in  the  "Edinburgh  Review," 
said:  "The  writings  of  Miss  Edgeworth  exhibit  so  sin- 
gular an  union  of  sober  sense  and  inexhaustible  inven- 
tion, so  minute  a  knowledge  of  all  that  distinguishes 
manners,  or  touches  on  happiness  in  every  condition  of 
human  fortune,  and  so  just  an  estimate  both  of  the  real 
sources  of  enjoyment,  and  of  the  illusions  by  which 
they  are  so  often  obstructed,  that  we  should  separate 
her  from  the  ordinary  manufacturers  of  novels,  and 
speak  of  her  Tales  as  works  of  more  serious  importance 
than  much  of  the  true  history  and  solemn  philosophy 
that  comes  daily  under  our  inspection.  ...  It  is  im- 
possible, I  think,  to  read  ten  pages  in  any  of  her  writ- 
ings without  feeling,  not  only  that  the  whole,  but  that 
every  part  of  them,  was  intended  to  do  good." 

MARIA    TO    MISS    RTJXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  June,  1809. 

A  copy  of  "Tales  of  Fashionable  Life"1  reached  us 
yesterday  in  a  Foster  frank;  they  looked  well  enough, 
—  not  very  good  paper,  but  better  than  "Popular 

l  The  first  set,  containing  Ennui,  Madame  de  Fleury,  Almeria,  The 
Dun  and  Manoeuvring,  in  three  volumes.     The  paper  was  abominable. 


1809]  TO  MISS   EUXTON  175 

Tales. "  I  am  going  to  write  a  story  called  "  To-day, " 1 
as  a  match  for  "To-morrow,"  in  which  I  mean  to  show 
that  Impatience  is  as  bad  as  Procrastination,  and  the 
desire  to  do  too  much  to-day,  and  to  enjoy  too  much  at 
present,  is  as  bad  as  putting  off  everything  to  to-mor- 
row. What  do  you  think  of  this  plan?  Write  next 
post,  as  I  am  going  to  write  while  my  father  is  away  a 
story  for  his  birthday.  My  other  plan  was  to  write  a 
story  in  which  young  men  of  all  the  different  profes- 
sions should  act  a  part,  like  the  "  Contrast "  in  higher 
life,2  or  the  "Freeman  Family,"  only  without  princes, 
and  without  any  possible  allusion  to  our  own  family. 
I  have  another  sub- plan  of  writing  "Coelebina  in  search 
of  a  Husband,"  without  my  father's  knowing  it,  and 
without  reading  "Calebs,"  that  I  may  neither  imitate 
nor  abuse  it. 

I  dare  say  you  can  borrow  Powell's  "Sermons"  from 
Ardbraccan  or  Dr.  Beaufort;  the  Primate  lent  them  to 
my  father.  There  is  a  charge  on  the  connection  be- 
tween merit  and  preferment,  and  one  discourse  on  the 
influence  of  academical  studies  and  a  recluse  life,  which 
I  particularly  admire,  and  wish  it  had  been  quoted  in 
"Professional  Education." 

Mr.  Holland,  a  grand-nephew  of  Mr.  Wedgwood's 
and  son  to  a  surgeon  at  Knutsford,  Cheshire,  and  in- 
tended for  a  physician,  came  here  in  the  course  of  a 
pedestrian  tour  —  spent  two  days  —  very  well  informed. 
Ask  my  mother  when  she  goes  to  you  to  tell  you  all 
that  Mr.  Holland  told  us  about  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barbauld 
and  Mrs.  Marcet,  who  is  the  author  of  "Conversations 
on  Chemistry  "  —  a  charming  woman,  by  his  account, 
l  Never  written.  *  Patronage. 


176  MARIA  EDGEWOKTH 


TO    MISS    RTJXTON. 

EDGEWOETHSTOWN,  August  22,  1809. 

I  have  just  been  reading  Carleton's  "Memoirs,"  and 
am  in  love  with  the  captain  and  with  his  general,  Lord 
Peterborough;  and  I  have  also  been  reading  one  of  the 
worst- written  books  in  the  language,  but  it  has  both 
instructed  and  entertained  me  —  Sir  John  Hawkins's 
"Life  of  Johnson."  He  has  thrown  a  heap  of  rubbish 
of  his  own  over  poor  Johnson,  which  would  have  smoth- 
ered any  less  gigantic  genius. 

M.  Dumont  writes  from  Lord  Henry  Petty 's:  "Nous 
avons  lu  en  socidte  a  Bounds,  '  Tales  of  Fashionable 
Life. '  Toute  socie'te'  est  un  petit  thdatre.  '  Ennui '  et 
'  Manoeuvring '  ont  eu  un  succes  marque",  il  a  dtd  tres 
vif.  Nous  avons  trouve"  un  grand  nombre  de  dialogues 
du  meilleur  comique,c'est  a  dire  de  ceux  oh  les  person- 
nages  se  developpent  sans  le  vouloir,  et  sont  plaisants 
sans  songer  h  Petre.  II  y  a  des  scenes  charmantes  dans 
'  Madame  de  Fleury. '  Ne  craignez  pas  les  difficult^, 
c'est  la  ou  vous  brillez." 

TO    MISS    HONOKA    EDGEWORTH. 

November  30. 

We  have  had  a  bevy  of  wits  here  —  Mr.  Chenevix, 
Mr.  Henry  Hamilton,  Leslie  Foster,  and  his  particular 
friend  Mr.  Fitzgerald.  Somebody  asked  if  Miss  White  1 
was  a  bluestocking.  "Oh,  yes,  she  is;  I  can't  tell  you 
how  blue.  What  is  bluer  than  blue?"  " MorUeu," 
exclaimed  Lord  Norbury.  Miss  White  herself  comes 
next  week. 

1  The  then  well-known  Miss  Lydia  White,  for  many  years  a  central 
figure  in  London  literary  society. 


1809]  TO  MISS   RUXTON  177 

December  11. 

Among  other  things  Miss  White  entertained  my 
father  with  was  a  method  of  drawing  the  human  figure, 
and  putting  it  into  any  attitude  you  please:  she  had 
just  learned  it  from  Lady  Charleville  —  or  rather  not 
learned  it.  A  whole  day  was  spent  in  drawing  circles 
all  over  the  human  figure,  and  I  saw  various  skeletons 
in  chains,  and  I  was  told  the  intersections  of  these  were 
to  show  where  the  centres  of  gravity  were  to  be;  but 
my  gravity  could  not  stand  the  sight  of  these  ineffectual 
conjuring  tricks,  and  my  father  was  out  of  patience 
himself.  He  seized  a  sheet  of  paper  and  wrote  to  Lady 
Charleville,  and  she  answered  in  one  of  the  most  polite 
letters  I  ever  read,  inviting  him  to  go  to  Charleville 
Forest,  and  he  will  go  and  see  these  magical  incanta- 
tions performed  by  the  enchantress  herself. 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

December,  1809. 

I  have  spent  five  delightful  days  at  Sonna  and  Paken- 
ham  Hall.  Mrs.  Tuite's  kindness  and  Mr.  Chenevix's 
various  anecdotes,  French  and  Spanish,  delighted  us  at 
Sonna;  and  you  know  the  various  charms  both  for  the 
head  and  heart  at  Pakenham  HalL 

I  have  just  been  reading,  for  the  fourth  time,  I 
believe,  "The  Simple  Story,"  which  I  intended  this 
time  to  read  as  a  critic,  that  I  might  write  to  Mrs. 
Inchbald  about  it ;  but  I  was  so  carried  away  by  it  that 
I  was  totally  incapable  of  thinking  of  Mrs.  Inchbald  or 
anything  but  Miss  Milner  and  Doriforth,  who  appeared 
to  me  real  persons  whom  I  saw  and  heard,  and  who  had 
such  power  to  interest  me,  that  I  cried  my  eyes  almost 


178  MAEIA  EDGEWOETH  [JAN. 

out  before  I  came  to  the  end  of  the  story:  I  think  it 
the  most  pathetic  and  the  most  powerfully  interesting 
tale  I  ever  read.  I  was  obliged  to  go  from  it  to  correct 
"  Belinda "  for  Mrs.  Barbauld,  who  is  going  to  insert  it 
in  her  collection  of  novels,  with  a  preface ;  and  I  really 
was  so  provoked  with  the  cold  tameness  of  that  stick  or 
stone  Belinda,  that  I  could  have  torn  the  pages  to 
pieces;  and  really,  I  have  not  the  heart  or  the  patience 
to  correct  her.  As  the  hackney  coachman  said,  "  Mend 
you  !  better  make  a  new  one. n 

TO    MBS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  January,  1810. 

I  have  had  a  very  nattering  and  grateful  letter  from 
Lydia  White;  she  has  sent  me  a  comedy  of  Kelly's  — 
"A  Word  to  the  Wise."  She  says  the  "Heiress"  is 
taken  from  it.  Just  about  the  same  time  I  had  a  letter 
from  Mrs.  Apreece : 1  she  is  at  Edinburgh,  and  seems 
charmed  with  all  the  wits  there;  and,  as  I  hear  from 
Mr.  Holland,2  the  young  physician  who  was  here  last 
summer,  she  is  much  admired  by  them.  Mrs.  Hamil- 
ton and  she  like  one  another  particularly;  they  can 
never  cross,  for  no  two  human  beings  are,  body  and 
mind,  form  and  substance,  more  unlike.  We  thought 
Mr.  Holland,  when  he  was  here,  a  young  man  of  abili- 
ties —  his  letter  has  fully  justified  this  opinion,  it  has 
excited  my  father's  enthusiastic  admiration.  He  says 
Walter  Scott  is  going  to  publish  a  new  poem ;  I  do  not 
augur  well  of  the  title,  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake."  I 
hope  this  lady  will  not  disgrace  him.  Mr.  Stewart  has 

1  Afterwards  Lady  Davy. 

2  Afterwards  Sir  Henry  Holland. 


1810]  TO  MRS.   BUXTON  179 

not  recovered,  nor  ever  will  recover,  the  loss  of  his 
son:  Mr.  Holland  says  the  conclusion  of  his  lectures 
this  season  was  most  pathetic  and  impressive  —  "pla- 
cing before  the  view  of  his  auditors  a  series  of  eight 
and  thirty  years,  in  which  he  had  zealously  devoted 
himself  to  the  duties  of  his  office;  and  gave  the  impres- 
sion that  this  year  would  be  the  period  of  his  public 
life." 

I  have  had  a  most  agreeable  letter  from  my  darling 
old  Mrs.  Clifford ;  she  sent  me  a  curiosity  —  a  worked 
muslin  cap,  which  cost  sixpence,  in  tambour  stitch,  done 
by  a  steam-engine.  Mrs.  Clifford  tells  me  that  Miss 
Hannah  More  was  lately  at  Dawlish,  and  excited  more 
curiosity  there,  and  engrossed  more  attention,  than  any 
of  the  distinguished  personages  who  were  there,  not 
excepting  the  Prince  of  Orange.  The  gentleman  from 
whom  she  drew  "  Calebs  "  was  there,  but  most  of  those 
who  saw  him  did  him  the  justice  to  declare  that  he  was 
a  much  more  agreeable  man  than  Coelebs.  If  you  have 
any  curiosity  to  know  his  name,  I  can  tell  you  that  — 
young  Mr.  Harford,  of  Blaize  Castle. 

February,  1810. 

My  father  has  just  had  a  letter  from  your  good  friend 
Sir  Kupert  George,  who  desires  to  be  affectionately 
remembered  to  you  and  my  uncle.  His  letter  is  in 
answer  to  one  my  father  wrote  to  him  about  his  clear 
and  honorable  evidence  on  this  Walcheren  business. 
Sir  Rupert  says:  "I  must  confess  I  feel  vain  in  receiv- 
ing commendations  from  such  a  quarter.  The  situation 
in  which  I  was  placed  was  perfectly  new  to  me,  and  I 
had  no  rule  for  the  government  of  my  conduct  but  the 


180  MAEIA  EDGEWOETH  [MARCH 

one  which  has,  I  trust,  governed  all  my  actions  through 
life  —  to  speak  the  truth,  and  fear  not.  Allow  me  on 
this  occasion  to  repeat  to  you  an  expression  of  the  late 
Mrs.  Delaney's  to  me  a  few  years  hefore  she  died:  '  The 
Georges,  I  knew,  would  always  prosper,  from  their 
integrity  of  conduct.  Don't  call  this  flattery;  I  am  too 
old  to  flatter  any  one,  particularly  a  grand-nephew;  and 
to  convince  you  of  my  sincerity,  I  will  add  —  for  which, 
perhaps,  you  will  not  thank  me  —  that  there  is  not  an 
ounce  of  wit  in  the  whole  family. '  " 

"Oh,  how  my  sister  would  like  to  see  this  letter  of 
Sir  Rupert's! "  said  my  father;  and  straightway  he  told, 
very  much  to  Sophy  and  Lucy's  edification,  the  history 
of  his  dividing  with  sister  Peg  the  first  peach  he  ever 
had  in  his  life. 

March  2. 

Have  you  any  commands  to  Iceland?  My  young 
friend  Mr.  Holland  proposes  going  there  from  Edin- 
burgh in 'April.  Sir  George  Mackenzie  is  the  chief 
mover  of  the  expedition. 

This  epigram  or  epitaph  was  written  by  Lord  I-don't- 
know-who,  upon  Doctor  Addington  —  Pitt's  Addington 
—  in  old  French :  — 

"  Cy  dessous  reposant 

Le  sieur  Addington  git: 
Politique  soi-disant, 

Medeciii  malgre  lui." 

March  19. 

The  other  day  we  had  a  visit  from  a  Mrs.  Coffy  — 
no  relation,  she  says,  to  your  Mrs.  Coffy.  She  looked 
exactly  like  one  of  the  pictures  of  the  old  London  Cries. 


1810]  TO   C.   SNEYD  EDGEWORTH  181 

She  came  to  tell  us  that  she  had  been  at  Verdun,  and 
had  seen  Lovell.  From  her  description  of  the  place 
and  of  him,  we  had  no  doubt  she  had  actually  seen 
him.  She  came  over  to  Ireland  to  prove  that  some 
man  who  is  a  prisoner  at  Verdun,  and  who  is  a  life  in 
a  lease,  is  not  dead,  but  "  all  alive,  ho ! "  and  my  father 
certified  for  her  that  he  believed  she  had  been  there. 
She  knew  nothing  of  Lovell  but  that  he  was  well,  and 
fat,  and  a  very  merry  gentleman  two  years  ago.  She 
had  been  taken  by  a  French  privateer  as  she  was  going 
to  see  her  sons  in  Jersey,  and  left  Verdun  at  a  quarter 
of  an  hour's  notice,  as  the  women  were  allowed  to  come 
home,  and  she  had  not  time  to  tell  this  to  Lovell,  or 
get  a  letter  from  him  to  his  friends.  She  was,  as  Kitty 
said,  "a  comical  body,"  but  very  entertaining,  and 
acted  a  woman  chopping  bread  and  selling  un  liv'  — 
deux  liv'  —  trois  liv' — Ah,  bon,  bon,  as  well  as  Molly 
Coffy 1  herself  acted  the  elephant.  She  was  children's 
maid  to  Mr.  Estwick,  and  Mr.  Estwick  is,  my  father 
says,  son  to  a  Mr.  Estwick  who  used  to  be  your  partner 
and  admirer  at  Bath  in  former  times ! ! 

TO  C.  SNEYD  EDGEWOBTH,  IN  LONDON. 

EDGEWOBTHSTOWN,  April,  1810. 

I  do  not  like  Lord  Byron's  "English  Bards  and 
Scotch  Reviewers,"  though,  as  my  father  says,  the  lines 
are  very  strong,  and  worthy  of  Pope  and  "The  Dun- 
ciad."  But  I  was  so  much  prejudiced  against  the  whole 
by  the  first  lines  I  opened  upon  about  the  "paralytic 
muse "  of  the  man  who  had  been  his  guardian,  and  is 
his  relation,  and  to  whom  he  had  dedicated  his  first 
i  Mrs.  Molly  Coffy,  for  fifty  years  Mrs.  Buxton's  housekeeper. 


182  MAEIA  EDGEWOKTH  [MAT 

poems,  that  I  could  not  relish  his  wit.  He  may  have 
great  talents,  but  I  am  sure  he  has  neither  a  great  nor 
good  mind;  and  I  feel  dislike  and  disgust  for  his  Lord- 
ship. 

TO    MISS    EUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  May,  1810. 

Now  I  have  to  announce  the  safe  arrival  of  my  aunts 
and  Honora  in  good  looks  and  good  spirits.  My  father 
went  to  Dublin  to  meet  them.  I  am  sorry  he  did  not 
see  the  Count  de  Salis,1  hut  he  was  much  pleased  with 
Harriet  Foster,  which  I  am  glad  of;  for  I  love  her. 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  June  21, 1810. 

When  shall  we  two  meet  again  ?  This  is  a  question 
which  occurs  to  me  much  oftener  than  even  you  think, 
and  it  always  comes  into  my  mind  when  I  am  in  any 
society  I  peculiarly  like,  or  when  I  am  reading  any 
book  particularly  suited  to  my  taste  and  feelings;  and 
now  it  comes  apropos  to  the  Bishop  of  Meath  and  Mrs. 
O'Beirne  and  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake."  By  great  good 
fortune,  and  by  the  good-nature  of  Lady  Charlotte  Raw- 
don,  we  had  "The  Lady  of  the  Lake"  to  read  just 
when  the  O'Beirnes  were  with  us.  A  most  delightful 
reading  we  had;  my  father,  the  Bishop,  and  Mr.  Jeph- 
son  reading  it  aloud  alternately.  It  is  a  charming 
poem:  a  most  interesting  story,  generous,  finely-drawn 
characters,  and  in  many  parts  the  finest  poetry.  But 

1  The  Count  de  Salis,  just  then  going  to  be  married  to  Miss  Foster, 
daughter  of  Mr.  Edgeworth's  old  friend  and  schoolfellow,  the  Bishop  of 
Clogher. 


1810]  TO  MISS  EUXTON  183 

for  an  old  prepossession  —  an  unconquerable  preposses- 
sion—  in  favor  of  the  old  minstrel,  I  think  I  should 
prefer  this  to  either  the  "  Lay  "  or  "  Marmion. "  Our 
pleasure  in  reading  it  was  increased  by  the  sympathy 
and  enthusiasm  of  the  guests. 

Have  you  read,  or  tried  to  read,  Mademoiselle  de 
1'Espinasse's  three  volumes  of  Letters?  and  have  you 
read  Madame  du  Deffand  ? 1  Some  of  the  letters  in  her 
collection  are  very  entertaining:  those  of  the  Duchesse 
de  Choiseul,  the  Count  de  Broglie,  Sir  James  Macdon- 
ald,  and  a  few  of  Madame  du  Deffand's;  the  others  are 
full  of  fade  compliments  and  tiresome  trifling,  but  alto- 
gether curious  as  a  picture  of  that  profligate,  heartless, 
brilliant,  and  ennuyed  society.  There  is  in  these  let- 
ters, I  think,  a  stronger  picture  of  ennui  than  in 
Alfieri's  "Life."  Was  his  passion  for  the  Countess  of 
Albany,  or  for  horses,  or  for  pure  Tuscan,  the  strongest  ? 
or  did  not  he  love  notoriety  better  than  all  three  ? 

September,  1810. 

Sir  Thomas  and  Lady  Ackland  spent  a  day  here;  he 
is  nephew  to  my  friend  Mrs.  Charles  Hoare.  He  says 
he  is  twenty-three,  but  he  looks  like  eighteen. 

TO    MISS    KUXTON. 

October,  1810. 

We  have  had  a  visit  from  Captain  Pakenham,  the 
Admiral's  son,  this  week;  I  like  him.  I  was  particu- 
larly pleased  with  his  respectful  manner  to  my  father. 
He  has  some  of  his  father's  quickness  of  repartee,  but 
with  his  own  manner  —  no  affectation  of  his  father's 
i  The  blind  friend  and  correspondent  of  Horace  Walpole. 


184  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [OCT. 

style.     We  were  talking   of   a   Mrs. .     "What," 

said  I,  "is  she  alive  still?  The  last  time  I  saw  her 
she  seemed  as  if  she  had  lived  that  one  day  longer  by 
particular  desire."  "I  am  sure,  then,"  said  Captain 
Pakenham,  in  a  slow,  gentle  voice,  —  "I  am  sure,  then, 
I  cannot  tell  at  whose  desire." 

I  have  been  hard  at  work  at  Mrs.  Leadbeater:  I  fear 
my  notes  are  rubbish. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  writes :  — 

Mrs.  Leadbeater,  the  Quaker  lady  who  lived  at  Balli- 
tore,  whose  father  had  been  tutor  to  Edmund  Burke, 
and  whose  Letters  have  been  published,  wrote  to  Maria 
this  year,  asking  her  advice  about  a  book  she  had  writ- 
ten, "Cottage  Dialogues,"  and  sent  the  MS.  to  her. 
Mr.  Edgeworth  was  so  much  pleased  with  it,  that  Maria 
offered,  at  Mr.  Edge  worth's  suggestion,  to  add  a  few 
notes  to  give  her  name  to  the  book;  and  it  was  pub- 
lished by  Johnson's  successor  with  great  success. 

Mr.  Edgeworth,  Maria,  and  I  went  this  autumn  to 
Kilkenny  to  see  the  amateur  theatricals,  with  which  we 
were  much  delighted.  Mr.  Edgeworth,  who  .remem- 
bered Garrick,  said  he  never  saw  such  tragic  acting  as 
Mr.  Kothe,  in  Othello;  how  true  to  nature  it  was,  ap- 
peared from  the  observation  of  our  servant,  Pat  New- 
man, who  had  never  seen  a  play  before,  when  Mr. 
Edgeworth  asked  him  if  he  did  not  pity  the  poor 
woman  smothered  in  bed:  "It  was  a  pity  of  her,  but  I 
declare  I  pitied  the  man  the  most."  The  town  was  full 
to  overflowing,  but  we  were  most  hospitably  received, 
though  our  friends  the  O'Beirnes  were  their  guests,  by 


1810]  TO  MISS  RUXTON  185 

Doctor  and  Mrs.  Butler.  He  had  been  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Edgeworth's  when  he  lived  in  the  County  of  Longford, 
and  she  had  been,  when  Miss  Rothwell,  a  Dublin 
acquaintance  of  mine.  This  visit  to  Kilkenny  was  rich 
in  recollections  for  Maria;  the  incomparable  acting,  the 
number  of  celebrated  people  there  assembled,  the  sup- 
per in  the  great  gallery  of  old  grand  Kilkenny  Castle, 
the  superb  hospitality,  the  number  of  beautiful  women 
and  witty  men,  the  gayety,  the  spirit,  and  the  brilliancy 
of  the  whole,  could  have  been  seen  nowhere  else. 

MARIA    TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

EDGEWOKTHSTOWN,  November,  1810. 

MY  DEAR  SOPHY,  —  We  are  to  set  out  for  Dublin  on 
the  13th,  to  hear  Davy's  lectures.  Lord  Fingal  was 
so  kind  as  to  come  here  yesterday  with  Lady  Teresa 
Dease,  and  he  told  me  that  my  uncle  is  gone  to  Dublin. 
Tell  me  everything  about  it  clearly.  Honora,  Fanny, 
and  William  go  with  us. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  interpolates :  — 

We  spent  a  few  weeks  in  Dublin.  Davy's  lectures 
not  only  opened  a  new  world  of  knowledge  to  ourselves 
and  to  our  young  people,  but  were  especially  gratifying 
to  Mr.  Edgeworth  and  Maria,  confirming,  by  the  elo- 
quence, ingenuity,  and  philosophy  which  they  displayed, 
the  high  idea  they  had  so  early  formed  of  Mr.  Davy's 
powers. 


186  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH 


MAKIA    TO    MISS    RTJXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  April,  1811. 

I  think  Hardy's  "Life  of  Lord  Charlemont"  inter- 
esting, and  many  parts  written  in  a  beautiful  style;  but 
I  don't  think  he  gives  a  clear,  well-proportioned  history 
of  the  times.  There  is  a  want  of  keeping  and  perspec- 
tive in  it.  The  pipe  of  the  man  smoking  out  of  the 
window  is  as  high  as  the  house.  Mr.  Hardy  is  more  a 
portrait  than  a  history  painter. 

If  you  have  any  curiosity  to  know  the  names  of  the 
writers  of  some  of  the  articles  in  the  "Edinburgh  Re- 
view," I  can  tell  you,  having  had  to-day,  from  my 
literary  intelligencer,  Mr.  Holland,  two  huge  sheets, 
very  entertaining  and  sensible.  Jeffrey  wrote  the  arti- 
cle on  Parliamentary  Reform,  and  that  on  the  Curse  of 
Kehama,  Sydney  Smith  that  on  Toleration,  and  Mai  thus 
that  on  Bullion;  and  if  you  have  any  curiosity,  I  can 
also  tell  you  those  in  the  "Quarterly,"  among  whom 
Canning  is  one.  Thank  my  aunt  for  her  information 
about  Walter  Scott;  my  father  will  write  immediately 
to  ask  him  here.  I  wish  we  lived  in  an  old  castle, 
and  had  millions  of  old  legends  for  him.  Have  you 
seen  Campbell's  poem  of  "O'Connor's  Child"?  It  is 
beautiful.  In  many  parts  I  think  it  is  superior  to 
Scott. 

May  Day. 

This  being  May  Day,  one  of  the  wettest  I  have  ever 
seen,  I  have  been  regaled,  not  with  garlands  of  May 
flowers,  but  with  the  legal  pleasures  of  the  season;  I 
have  heard  of  nothing  but  giving  notices  to  quit,  tak- 
ing possession,  ejectments,  flittings,  etc.  What  do 


1811]  TO  MISS  RUXTON  187 

you  think  of  a  tenant  who  took  one  of  the  nice  new 
houses  in  this  town,  and  left  it  with  every  lock  torn  off 
the  doors,  and  with  a  large  stone,  such  as  John  Langan 
could  not  lift,  driven  actually  through  the  boarded  floor 
of  the  parlor?  The  brute,  however,  is  rich,  and  if  he 
does  not  die  of  whiskey  before  the  law  can  get  its  hand 
into  his  pocket,  he  will  pay  for  this  waste. 

I  have  had  another  odd  letter 1  signed  by  three  young 
ladies,  —  Clarissa  Craven,  Kachel  Biddle,  and  Eliza 
Finch,  —  who,  after  sundry  compliments  in  very  pretty 
language,  and  with  all  the  appearance  of  seriousness, 
beg  that  I  will  do  them  the  favor  to  satisfy  the  curiosity 
they  feel  about  the  wedding  dresses  of  the  Frankland 
family  in  the  "Contrast."  I  have  answered  in  away 
that  will  stand  for  either  jest  or  earnest;  I  have  said 
that,  at  a  sale  of  Admiral  Tipsey's  smuggled  goods, 
Mrs.  Hungerford  bought  French  cambric  muslin  wed- 
ding gowns  for  the  brides,  the  collars  trimmed  in  the 
most  becoming  manner,  as  a  Monmouth  milliner  assured 
me,  with  Valenciennes  lace,  from  Admiral  Tipsey's 
spoils.  I  have  given  all  the  particulars  of  the  bride- 
grooms' accoutrements,  and  signed  myself  the  young 
ladies'  "obedient  servant  and  perhaps  dupe." 

I  am  going  on  with  "Patronage,"  and  wish  I  could 
show  it  to  you.  Do  get  "O'Connor's  Child,"  Camp- 
bell's beautiful  poem. 

Last  Saturday  there  was  the  most  violent  storm  of 
thunder  and  lightning  I  ever  saw  in  Ireland,  and  once 
I  thought  I  felt  the  ground  shake  under  me,  for  which 

i  No  less  than  five  letters  were  received  by  Miss  Edgeworth  at  differ- 
ent times,  from  different  young  people,  asking  for  a  description  of  the 
dresses  in  the  Contrast. 


188  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [Auo. 

thought  I  was  at  the  time  laughed  to  scorn;  but  I  find 
that  at  the  same  time  the  shock  of  an  earthquake  was 
felt  in  the  country,  which  shook  Lissard  House  to  its 
foundations.  I  tell  it  to  you  in  the  very  words  in 
which  it  was  told  to  me  by  Sneyd,  who  had  it  from 
Counsellor  Cummin.  A  man  was  certainly  killed  by 
the  lightning  near  Finae,  for  the  said  counsellor  was 
knocked  up  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  know  if 
there  was  to  be  a  coroner's  inquest. 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  August  30,  1811. 

I  have  written  a  little  play  for  our  present  large  juve- 
nile audience,1  not  for  them  to  act,  but  to  hear;  I  read 
it  out  last  night,  and  it  was  liked.  The  scene  is  in 
Ireland,  and  the  title  "The  Absentee."  When  will 
you  let  me  read  it  to  you  ?  I  would  rather  read  it  to 
you  up  in  a  garret  than  to  the  most  brilliant  audience  in 
Christendom. 

Anna's  children  are  very  affectionate.  Henry  is 
beautiful,  and  the  most  graceful  creature  I  ever  saw. 
The  eight  children  are  as  happy  together  as  the  day  is 
long,  and  give  no  sort  of  trouble. 

What  book  do  you  think  Buonaparte  was  reading  at 
the  siege  of  Acre?  —  "Madame  de  Stae'l  sur  1' Influence 
des  Passions ! "  His  opinion  of  her  and  of  her  works 
has  wonderfully  changed  since  then.  He  does  not  fol- 
low Mazarin's  wise  maxim,  "Let  them  talk,  provided 
they  let  me  act."  He  may  yet  find  the  recoil  of  that 
press,  with  which  he  meddles  so  incautiously,  more 

1  Mrs.  Beddoes  and  her  three  children  were  now  at  Edgeworths- 
town. 


1811]  TO  MISS  SNEYD  189 

dangerous  than  those  cannon  of  which  he  well  knows 
the  management. 

Note  Physical  and  Economical.  —  I  am  informed 
from  high  authority,  that  if  you  -give  Glauher's  salts  to 
hens,  they  will  lay  eggs  as  fast  as  you  please ! 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  October,  1811. 

Davy  spent  a  day  here  last  week,  and  was  as  usual 
full  of  entertainment  and  information  of  various  kinds. 
He  is  gone  to  Connemara,  I  believe,  to  fish,  for  he  is 
a  little  mad  about  fishing;  and  very  ungrateful  it  is  of 
me  to  say  so,  for  he  sent  to  us  from  Boyle  the  finest 
trout!  and  a  trout  of  Davy's  catching  is,  I  presume, 
worth  ten  trouts  caught  by  vulgar  mortals.  Sneyd 
went  with  him  to  Boyle,  saw  Lord  Lorton's  fine  place, 
and  spent  a  pleasant  day.  Two  of  Mr.  Davy's  fishing 
friends  have  since  called  upon  us  —  Mr.  Solly,  a  great 
mineralogist,  and  Mr.  Children,  a  man  of  Kent. 

I  am  working  away  at  "Patronage,"  but  cannot  at  all 
come  up  to  my  idea  of  what  it  should  be. 

TO    MISS    SNEYD. 

ABDBKACCAN  HOUSE,  November,  1811. 
Nothing  worthy  of  note  occurred  on  our  journey  to 
Pakenham  Hall,  where  we  found  to  our  surprise  dear 
Lady  Longford  and  Lord  Longford,  who  had  come  an 
hour  before  on  one  of  his  flying  visits,  and  a  whole 
tribe  of  merry  laughing  children,  Stewarts  and  Hamil- 
tons.  Lady  Longford  showed  us  a  picture  of  Lady 
Wellington  and  her  children;  they  are  beautiful,  and 


190  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1811 

she  says  very  like  —  Lady  Wellington  is  not  like ;  it  is 
absurd  to  attempt  to  draw  Lady  Wellington's  face;  she 
has  no  /ace,  it  is  all  countenance.  My  father  and  Lady 
Elizabeth  played  at  cribbage,  and  I  was  looking  on; 
they  counted  so  quickly  fifteen  two,  fifteen  four,  that  I 
was  never  able  to  keep  up  with  them,  and  made  a  sorry 
figure.  Worse  again  at  some  genealogies  and  inter- 
marriages, which  Lady  Elizabeth  undertook  to  explain 
to  me,  till  at  last  she  threw  her  arms  flat  down  on  each 
side  in  indignant  despair,  and  exclaimed,  "Well!  you 
are  the  stupidest  creature  alive ! " 

When  Lord  Longford  came  in  I  escaped  from  crib- 
bage and  heard  many  entertaining  things;  one  was  of 
his  meeting  a  man  in  the  mail  coach,  who  looked  as  if 
he  was  gouty,  and  seemed  as  if  he  could  not  stir  with- 
out great  difficulty,  and  never  without  the  assistance  of 
a  companion,  who  never  moved  an  inch  from  him.  At 
last  Lord  Longford  discovered  that  this  gentleman's 
gouty  overalls  covered  fetters  ;  that  he  was  a  malefactor 
in  irons,  and  his  companion  a  Bow  Street  officer,  who 
treated  his  prisoner  with  the  greatest  politeness.  "  Give 
me  leave,  sir  —  excuse  me  —  one  on  your  arm  and  one 
on  mine,  and  then  we  are  sure  we  can't  leave  one  an- 
other." 

A  worse  traveling  companion  this  than  the  bear, 
whom  Lord  Longford  found  one  morning  in  the  coach 
when  day  dawned,  opposite  to  him  —  the  gentleman  in 
the  fur  cloak,  as  he  had  all  night  supposed  him  to  be ! 

A  second  series  of  "  Tales  of  Fashionable  Life  "  ap- 
peared in  1812.  Of  these  "The  Absentee"  was  a  mas- 
terpiece, and  contains  one  scene  which  Macaulay  declared 


1812]  TO  MISS   MARGARET   RUXTON  191 

to  be  the  best  thing  written  of  its  kind  since  the  open- 
ing of  the  twenty-second  book  of  the  Odyssey.  Yet 
Mrs.  Edgeworth  tells  that  the  greater  part  of  "The 
Absentee  "  was  written  under  the  torture  of  the  tooth- 
ache; it  was  only  by  keeping  her  mouth  full  of  some 
strong  lotion  that  Maria  could  allay  the  pain,  and  yet, 
though  in  this  state  of  suffering,  she  never  wrote  with 
more  spirit  and  rapidity.  Mr.  Edgeworth  advised  the 
conclusion  to  be  a  Letter  from  Larry,  the  postilion;  he 
wrote  one,  and  she  wrote  another;  he  much  preferred 
hers,  which  is  the  admirable  finale  to  "  The  Absentee. " 

MARIA    TO    MISS    MARGARET    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  July  20, 1812. 

I  am  heartily  obliged  to  my  dear  Sophy  —  never 
mind,  you  need  not  turn  to  the  direction,  it  is  to  Mar- 
garet, my  dear,  though  it  begins  with  thanks  to  Sophy 
—  for  being  in  such  haste  to  relieve  my  mind  from  the 
agony  it  was  in  that  "  Eashionable  Tales  "  should  reach 
my  aunt.  I  cannot  by  any  form  of  words  express  how 
delighted  I  am  that  you  are  none  of  you  angry  with  me, 
and  that  my  uncle  and  aunt  are  pleased  with  what  they 
have  read  of  "The  Absentee."  I  long  to  hear  whether 
their  favor  continues  to  the  end  and  extends  to  the 
catastrophe,  that  dangerous  rock  upon  which  poor  au- 
thors, even  after  a  prosperous  voyage,  are  wrecked, 
sometimes  while  their  friends  are  actually  hailing  them 
from  the  shore.  I  have  the  Rosamond  vase l  madness 
so  strong  upon  me,  that  I  am  out  of  my  dear  bed  regu- 
larly at  half-past  seven  in  the  morning,  and  never  find 

i  A  glass  vase  which  Miss  Edgeworth  painted  for  Mrs.  Ruxton,  in 
brown,  from  Flaxman's  designs  for  the  Odyssey. 


192  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [JuLT 

it  more  than  half  an  hour  till  breakfast  time,  so  happy 
am  I  daubing.  On  one  side  I  have  Ulysses  longing  to 
taste  Circe's  cakes,  but  saying,  "No,  thank  you,"  like 
a  very  good  boy ;  and  on  the  other  side  I  have  him  just 
come  home,  and  the  old  nurse  washing  his  feet,  and  his 
queen  fast  asleep  in  her  chair  by  a  lamp,  which  I  hope 
will  not  set  her  on  fire,  though  it  is,  in  spite  of  my  best 
endeavors,  so  much  out  of  the  perpendicular  that  nothing 
but  a  miracle  can  keep  it  from  falling  on  Penelope's 
crown. 

Little  Pakenham  is  going  on  bravely  (not  two  months 
old),  and  I  am  just  beginning  to  write  again,  and  am 
in  "Patronage,"  and  have  corrected  all  the  faults  you 
pointed  out  to  me;  and  Susan,  who  was  a  fool,  is  now 
Rosamond  and  a  wit. 

I  suppose  you  have  heard  various  jeux  d' esprit  on 
the  marriage  of  Sir  Humphry  Davy  and  Mrs.  Apreece. 
I  scarcely  think  any  of  them  worth  copying;  the  best 
idea  is  stolen  from  the  bon  mot  on  Sir  John  Carr, 
"The  Traveler  be&nighted. " 

"When  Mr.  Davy  concluded  his  last  lecture  by  say- 
ing that  we  were  but  in  the  Dawn  of  Science,  he  prob- 
ably did  not  expect  to  be  so  soon  be&nighted. " 

I  forget  the  lines;  the  following  I  recollect  better:  — 

"  To  the  famed  widow  vainly  bow 

Church,  Army,  Bar,  and  Navy ; 
Says  she,  I  dare  not  take  a  vow, 
But  I  will  take  my  Davy." 

Another  my  father  thinks  is  better :  — 

"  Too  many  men  have  often  seen 

Their  talents  underrated  ; 
But  Davy  owns  that  his  have  been 
Duly  Appreeci&ted." 


1812]  TO  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  193 

August  22. 

I  inclose  a  copy  of  Lovell's  letter,  which  will  give 
my  dear  aunt  exquisite  pleasure.  His  request  to  my 
father  to  pass  him  over,  a  prisoner  and  of  precarious 
health,  and  make  his  next  brother  his  heir,  shows  that 
if  he  has  suffered  he  has  at  least  had  an  opportunity  of 
showing  what  he  is.  We  shall  do  all  we  can  to  get  at 
Talleyrand  or  some  friend  for  his  exchange.  How 
happy  Lady  Wellington  must  be  at  this  glorious  victory. 
Had  you  in  your  paper  an  account  of  her  running  as 
fast  as  she  could  to  Lord  Bury  at  Lord  Bathurst's  when 
he  alighted,  to  learn  the  first  news  of  her  husband! 
Vive  I' enthousiasme !  Without  it  characters  may  be 
very  snug  and  comfortable  in  the  world,  but  there  is  a 
degree  of  happiness  which  they  will  never  taste,  and 
of  which  they  have  no  more  idea  than  an  oyster  can 
have. 

TO    MRS.    EDGEWORTH. 

BLACK  CASTLE,  October,  1812. 

After  a  most  delightful  journey  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Henry  Hamilton,  laughing,  singing,  and  talking,  we 
dined  with  them.1  Dear  old  Mr.  Sackville  Hamilton 
dined  with  us,  fresh  from  London;  intellectual  and 
corporeal  dainties  in  abundance.  The  first  morning  was 
spent  in  cursing  Mr.  Sadler  for  not  going  up,  and  in 
seeing  the  Dublin  Society  House.  A  charming  picture 

1  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton  were  paying  us  a  visit,  when  the  papers 
announced  Mr.  Sadler's  intention  of  crossing  the  Channel  in  a  balloon 
from  Dublin.  Mr.  Edgeworth  proposed  to  Mr.  Hamilton  that  they 
should  go  to  Dublin  together  to  see  the  ascent,  and  he  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hamilton,  Maria,  Sneyd,  William,  and  two  little  sisters  formed 
the  party. 


194  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Ocx. 

of  Mr.  Foster,  by  Beachy,  with  plans  in  his  hand,  look- 
ing full  of  thought  and  starting  into  life  and  action. 
Spent  an  hour  looking  over  the  books  of  prints  in  the 
library.  Fanny  particularly  pleased  with  a  Houbracken ; 
Harriet  with  Daniel's  Indian  Antiquities;  my  father 
with  Sir  Christopher  Wren's  and  Inigo  Jones's  designs. 
After  dinner  Richard  Ruxton  came  in,  and  said  my 
aunt  and  uncle  had  thoughts  of  coming  up  to  see  the 
balloon.  In  the  evening  at  Astley's.  The  second  day 
to  see  the  elephant;  how  I  pitied  this  noble  animal, 
cooped  up  under  the  command  of  a  scarcely  human 
creature,  who  had  not  half  as  much  reason  as  himself. 
Went  on  to  see  the  Panorama  of  Edinburgh;  I  never 
saw  a  sight  that  pleased  me  more;  Edinburgh  was 
before  me  —  Princes  Street  and  George  Street  —  the 
Castle  —  the  bridge  over  dry  land  where  the  woman  met 
us  and  said,  "Poor  little  things  they  be."  At  first  a 
mistiness,  like  what  there  is  in  nature  over  a  city  before 
the  sun  breaks  out;  then  the  sun  shining  on  the  build- 
ings, trees,  and  mountains. 

Thursday  morning,  to  our  inexpressible  joy,  was  fine, 
and  the  flag,  the  signal  that  Sadler  would  ascend,  was, 
to  the  joy  of  thousands,  flying  from  the  top  of  Nelson's 
Pillar.  Dressed  quickly  —  breakfasted  I  don't  know 
how  —  job  coach  punctual;  crowds  in  motion  even  at 
nine  o'clock  in  the  streets;  tide  flowing  all  one  way  to 
Belvidere  Gardens,  lent  by  the  proprietor  for  the  occa- 
sion; called  at  Sneyd's  lodgings  in  Anne  Street;  he 
and  William  gone ;  drove  on ;  when  we  came  near  Bel- 
videre such  strings  of  carriages,  such  crowds  of  people 
on  the  road  and  on  the  raised  footpath,  there  was  no 
stirring;  troops  lined  the  road  at  each  side,  guard  with 


1812]  TO  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  195 

officers  at  each  entrance  to  prevent  mischief;  but  unfor- 
tunately there  were  only  two  entrances,  not  nearly 
enough  for  such  a  confluence  of  people.  Most  impru- 
dently we  and  several  others  got  out  of  our  carriages 
upon  the  raised  footpath,  in  hopes  of  getting  immedi- 
ately at  the  garden  door,  which  was  within  two  yards  of 
us,  but  nothing  I  ever  felt  was  equal  to  the  pressure  of 
the  crowd;  they  closed  over  our  little  heads,  I  thought 
we  must  have  been  flattened,  and  the  breath  squeezed 
out  of  our  bodies.  My  father  held  Harriet  fast,  I 
behind  him  held  Fanny  with  such  a  grasp !  and  dragged 
her  on  with  a  force  I  did  not  know  I  possessed.  I 
really  thought  your  children  would  never  see  you  again 
with  all  their  bones  whole,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  what 
I  suffered  for  ten  minutes,  —  my  father,  quite  pale,  call- 
ing with  a  stentor  voice  to  the  sentinels.  A  fat  woman 
nearly  separated  me  from  Fanny.  My  father  fairly 
kicked  off  the  terrace  a  man  who  was  intent  upon 
nothing  but  an  odious  bag  of  cakes  which  he  held  close 
to  his  breast,  swearing  and  pushing.  Before  us  Mrs. 
Smyley  and  Mr.  Smyley,  with  a  lady  he  was  protect- 
ing, and  unable  to  protect  anybody,  looked  more  fright- 
ened than  if  he  had  lost  a  hundred  causes;  the  lady 
continually  saying,  "Let  me  back!  let  me  back!  if  I 
could  once  get  to  my  carriage ! " 

The  tide  carried  us  on  to  the  door.  An  admirable 
Scotch  officer,  who  was  mounting  guard  with  a  drawn 
sword,  his  face  dropping  perspiration,  exclaimed  at  the 
sight  of  Harriet,  "Oh,  the  child!  take  care  of  that  child! 
she  will  be  crushed  to  death !  "  He  made  a  soldier  put 
his  musket  across  the  doorway,  so  as  to  force  a  place  for 
her  to  creep  under;  quick  as  lightning  in  she  darted, 


196  MAEIA  EDGE  WORTH  [OCT. 

and  Fanny  and  I  and  my  father  after  her.      All  serene, 
uncrowded,  and  fresh  within  the  park. 

Instantly  met  Sneyd  and  William,  and  the  two  Mr. 
Foxes.  Music  and  the  most  festive  scene  in  the  gar- 
dens; the  balloon,  the  beautiful  many-colored  balloon, 
chiefly  maroon  color,  with  painted  eagles,  and  garlands, 
and  arms  of  Ireland,  hung  under  the  trees,  and  filling 
fast  from  pipes  and  an  apparatus  which  I  leave  for  Wil- 
liam's scientific  description;  terrace  before  Belvidere 
House  —  well-dressed  groups  parading  on  it;  groups  all 
over  the  gardens,  mantles,  scarves,  and  feathers  floating; 
all  the  commonalty  outside  in  fields  at  half-price.  We 
soon  espied  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hamilton,  and  joined  com- 
pany, and  were  extremely  happy,  and  wished  for  you 
and  dear  Honora.  Sun  shining,  no  wind.  Presently 
we  met  the  Solicitor-General;  he  started  back,  and 
made  me  such  a  bow  as  made  me  feel  my  own  little- 
ness; then  shook  my  hands  most  cordially,  and  in  a  few 
moments  told  me  more  than  most  men  could  tell  in  an 
hour;  just  returned  from  Edinburgh  —  Mrs.  Bushe  and 
daughters  too  much  fatigued  to  come  and  see  the  bal- 
loon. 

The  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Richmond,  and  Sir  Charles 
Vernon,  and  Sir  Charles  Saxton.  The  Miss  Gunns 
seated  themselves  in  a  happily  conspicuous  place,  with 
some  gentlemen,  on  the  roof  of  Belvidere  House,  where, 
with  veils  flying  and  telescopes  and  opera-glasses  con- 
tinually veering  about,  they  attracted  sufficient  atten- 
tion. 

Walking  on,  Sneyd  exclaimed,  "  My  Uncle  Ruxton ! " 
I  darted  to  him;  "Is  my  aunt  here?"  "Yes,  and 
Sophy,  and  Margaret,  but  I  have  lost  them;  I'm  look- 


1812]  TO  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  197 

ing  for  them."  "Oh,  come  with  me  and  we'll  find 
them."  Soon  we  made  our  way  behind  the  heels  of 
the  troopers'  horses,  who  guarded  a  sacred  circle  round  the 
balloon;  found  my  aunt,  and  Sophy,  and  Mag  —  sur- 
prise and  joy  on  both  sides;  got  seats  on  the  pedestal 
of  some  old  statue,  and  talked  and  enjoyed  ourselves; 
the  balloon  filling  gradually.  Now  it  was  that  my 
uncle  proposed  our  returning  by  Black  Castle. 

The  drum  beats!  the  flag  flies!  balloon  full!  It  is 
moved  from  under  the  trees  over  the  heads  of  the 
crowd;  the  car  very  light  and  slight  —  Mr.  Sadler's 
son,  a  young  lad,  in  the  car.  How  the  horses  stood 
the  motion  of  this  vast  body  close  to  them  I  can't  im- 
agine, but  they  did.  The  boy  got  out.  Mr.  Sadler, 
quite  composed,  this  being  his  twenty-sixth  aerial  as- 
cent, got  into  his  car;  a  lady,  the  Duchess  of  Richmond, 
I  believe,  presented  to  him  a  pretty  flag;  the  balloon 
gave  two  majestic  nods  from  side  to  side  as  the  cords 
were  cut.  Whether  the  music  continued  at  this  mo- 
ment to  play  or  not,  nobody  can  tell.  No  one  spoke 
while  the  balloon  successfully  rose,  rapidly  cleared  the 
trees,  and  floated  above  our  heads;  loud  shouts  and 
huzzas,  one  man  close  to  us  exclaiming,  as  he  clasped 
hie  hands,  "Ah,  musha,  musha,  God  bless  you!  God 
be  wid  you !  "  Mr.  Sadler,  waving  his  flag  and  his  hat, 
and  bowing  to  the  world  below,  soon  pierced  a  white 
cloud,  and  disappeared;  then  emerging,  the  balloon 
looked  like  a  moon,  black  on  one  side,  silver  on  the 
other;  then  like  a  dark  bubble;  then  less  and  less,  and 
now  only  a  speck  is  seen;  and  now  the  fleeting  rack 
obscures  it.  Never  did  I  feel  the  full  merit  of  Dar- 
win's description  till  then. 


198  MAKIA  EDGEWOKTH  [1812 

Next  day,  at  eight  in  the  morning,  my  father  and 
William  (who  proceed  to  the  Bishop  of  Derry's)  and 
Fanny  went  to  Collon.  Sneyd,  Harriet,  and  I  came 
here. 

TO    MBS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  October  26, 1812. 

Elections  have  been  the  order  of  the  day  with  us  as 
well  as  with  you.  I  am  glad  to  tell  you  that  Lord 
Longford's  troubles  are  over;  he  is  now  here,  and  has 
just  been  telling  us  that  his  victory  for  Colonel  Hercules 
was  as  complete  as  his  heart  could  wish.  There  would 
have  been  a  duel  but  for  Admiral  Pakenham.  One 
gentleman  in  his  speech  said  that  another  had  made  the 
drummer  of  his  corps  play  "Protestant  Boys."  The 
other  said,  "That's  a  lie;"  and  both  were  proceeding 
to  high  words,  when  the  Admiral  stepped  between 
them,  and  said,  very  gravely,  "Gentlemen,  I  did  not 
know  this  meeting  was  a  music  meeting,  but  since  you 
appeal  to  us  electors  to  decide  your  cause  by  your  musi- 
cal merits,  let  the  past  be  past;  and  now  for  the  present 
give  us  each  of  you  a  song,  and  here  's  the  sheriff  "  — 
who  has  no  more  ear  than  a  post  —  "shall  be  judge 
between  you."  Everybody  laughed,  and  the  two  angry 
gentlemen  had  to  laugh  off  their  quarrel. 

Another  gentleman  said  to  the  Admiral,  after  the 
election  was  over,  "Do  you  know,  I  had  a  mind  to 
have  stood  myself;  if  I  had,  what  would  you  have 
said  1 "  "  That  it  was  all  a  game  of  brag,  and  that,  as 
you  had  the  shuffling  of  the  pack,  there  was  no  knowing 
what  knave  might  turn  up." 

Lord  Longford  told  us  of  Colonel  Hercules  Paken- 
ham, at  the  siege  of  Badajos,  walking  with  an  engineer; 


1813]  TO  C.   SNEYD  EDGEWOETH  199 

a  bomb  whizzed  over  their  heads  and  fell  among  the 
soldiers;  and  as  they  were  carrying  off  the  wounded, 
when  the  Colonel  expressed  some  regret,  the  engineer 
said,  "I  wonder  you  have  not  steeled  your  mind  to 
these  things.  These  men  are  carried  to  the  hospital, 
and  others  come  in  their  place.  Let  us  go  to  the 
depot." 

Here  the  engineer  had  his  wheelbarrows  all  laid  out 
in  nice  order,  and  his  pickaxes  arranged  in  stars  and 
various  shapes;  but,  just  as  they  were  leaving  the 
ddpot,  a  bomb  burst  in  the  midst  of  them.  "  Oh,  heav- 
enly powers,  my  picks ! "  cried  the  engineer,  with 
clasped  hands,  in  despair. 

TO    C.   SNEYD    EDGEWORTH,    IN    DUBLIN. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  February  10, 1813. 
"Bokeby"  is,  in  my  opinion, — and  let  every  soul 
speak  for  themselves,  — most  beautiful  poetry;  the  four 
first  cantos  and  half  the  fifth  are  all  I  have  yet  read. 
I  think  it  a  higher  and  better,  because  less  Scotch,  more 
universal  style  of  poetry  than  any  he  has  yet  produced, 
though  not  altogether  perfect  of  its  kind;  more  discrimi- 
nation of  character,  more  knowledge  of  human  nature, 
more  generalized  reflection,  much  more  moral  aim. 

In  March,  Miss  Edgeworth  accompanied  her  father 
and  stepmother  to  England. 

MARIA    TO    MISS    SNETD. 

BANGOR  FERRY,  March  31, 1813. 

"I  will  go  and  write  a  few  lines  of  a  letter  to  my 
dear  Aunt  Mary. " 


200  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

"Oh!  why  should  you  write  now,  my  dear?  You 
have  nothing  new  to  tell  her. " 

"Nothing  new,  but  I  love  her,  and  wish  to  write  to 
her;  if  I  did  not  love  her,  I  should  be  worse  than  Cali- 
ban." 

"Well,  write  only  a  few  lines." 

"That  is  just  what  I  mean  to  do,  and  go  on  with  my 
letter  at  any  odd  place  where  we  stop  the  night." 

You  have  heard  of  all  we  saw  at  Howth,  so  I  go  on 
from  Holyhead.  Breakfasted  in  company  with  Mr. 
Grainger;  he  has  lived  in  very  good  company  abroad, 
and  told  us  a  variety  of  entertaining  anecdotes;  Caulin- 
court,  now  Due  de  Vincennes,  was  brought  up  in  the 
family  of  the  Prince  de  Condd,  V  enfant  de  la  Maison, 
the  playfellow  of  the  Due  d'Enghien.  Buonaparte  em- 
ployed Caulincourt  to  seize  the  Due  d'Enghien;  the 
wretch  did  so,  and  has  been  repaid  by  a  dukedom. 

We  asked  how  the  present  Empress  was  liked  in 
France.  "Not  at  all  by  the  Parisians;  she  is  too 
haughty,  has  the  Austrian  scornful  lip,  and  sits  back  in 
her  carriage  when  she  goes  through  the  streets."  The 
same  complaint  was  made  against  Marie  Antoinette. 
On  what  small  things  the  popularity  of  the  high  and 
mighty  depends! 

Josephine  is  living  very  happily,  amusing  herself 
with  her  gardens  and  her  shrubberies.  This  ci-devant 
Empress  and  Kennedy  and  Co.,  the  seedsmen,  are,  as 
Mr.  Grainger  says,  in  partnership;  she  has  a  license  to 
send  to  him  what  shrubs  and  seeds  she  chooses  from 
France,  and  he  has  license  to  send  cargoes  in  return  to 
her.  Mr.  Grainger  will  carry  over  my  box  to  Madame 
Re'camier. 


1813]  TO  MISS  SNEYD  201 

At  the  inn  door  at  Bangor  Ferry  we  saw  a  most  curi- 
ously packed  curricle,  with  all  manner  of  portmanteaus 
and  hat-boxes  slung  in  various  ingenious  ways,  and 
behind  the  springs  two  baskets,  the  size  and  shape  of 
Lady  Elizabeth  Pakenham's  basket.  A  huge  bunch 
of  white  feathers  was  sticking  out  from  one  end  of 
one  of  these  baskets;  and  as  we  approached  to  examine 
it,  out  came  the  live  head  of  a  white  peacock  —  a  Japan 
peacock  and  peahen.  The  gentleman  to  whom  the  car- 
riage belonged  appeared  next,  carrying  on  a  perch  a  fine 
large  macaw.  This  perch  was  made  to  fasten  behind 
the  carriage.  The  servant  who  was  harnessing  the 
horses  would  not  tell  to  whom  the  carriage  belonged. 
He  replied  to  all  inquiries,  "It  belongs  to  that  there 
gentleman. " 

We  have  enjoyed  this  fine  day;  had  a  delightful 
walk  before  dinner  in  a  hanging  wood  by  the  water- 
side —  pretty  sheep-paths,  wood  anemones  in  abun- 
dance, with  their  white  flowers  in  full  blow.  Two 
ploughs  going  in  the  field  below  the  wood;  very  cheer- 
ful the  sound  of  the  Welshmen's  voices  talking  to  their 
horses.  The  ploughing,  giving  the  idea  of  culture  and 
civilization,  contrasted  agreeably  with  the  wildness  of 
the  wood  and  mountains.  Good-night. 

Thursday. 

This  morning  we  set  out  for  the  slate-quarries;  we 
took  our  time,  and  full  time  to  see  everything  at  lei- 
sure. The  railways  are  above  six  miles  long;  they  are 
very  narrow.  I  had  formed  an  idea  of  their  being 
much  more  magnificent,  but  in  this  country  canals  and 
railways  are  made  as  useful  and  as  little  splendid  as 


202  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [APRIL 

possible.  I  was  surprised  to  see  these  railways  winding 
round  the  rocks,  and  going  over  heaps  of  rubbish  where 
you  would  think  no  wheelbarrow  even  could  go. 

Prom  the  slate- cutting  we  went  to  the  slate- quarries. 
We  had  been  admiring  the  beauty  of  the  landscape. 
My  father  did  not  say  anything  to  raise  my  expecta- 
tions, but  when  we  arrived  near  the  place,  he  took  me 
by  the  hand,  and  led  me  over  a  heap  of  rubbish,  on  the 
top  of  which  there  was  a  railway.  We  walked  on  until 
we  came  between  two  slate  mountains,  and  found  our- 
selves in  the  midst  of  the  quarries.  It  was  the  most 
sublime  sight  of  all  the  works  of  man  I  ever  beheld. 
The  men  looked  like  pygmies.  There  is  a  curious  cone 
of  grayish-colored  slate  standing  alone,  which  the  work- 
men say  is  good  for  nothing;  but  it  is  good  for  its  pic- 
turesque appearance.  A  heavy  shower  of  hail  came  on, 
which,  falling  between  the  rifts  of  the  rocks,  and  blown 
by  the  high  wind,  added  to  the  sublimity  of  the  scene; 
we  were  comfortably  sheltered  in  one  of  the  sheds. 

Finding  that  Mr.  Worthington  was  at  Liverpool,  my 
father  determined  to  go  there,  and  we  have  come  on  to 
Conway.  During  a  storm  of  wind,  thunder,  and  light- 
ning last  night  it  snowed  just  enough  to  cover  the  tops 
of  the  mountains  with  white,  to  increase  the  beauty 
of  the  prospect  for  us;  they  appeared  more  majestic  from 
the  strong  contrast  of  bright  lights  and  broad  shades; 
the  leaves  of  the  honeysuckles  all  green  in  the  hedges, 
fine  hollies,  primroses  in  abundance;  it  was  literally 
spring  in  the  lap  of  winter.  Penmanmawr  has,  my 
father  says,  considerably  altered  its  appearance,  since 
he  knew  it  first,  from  the  falling  of  masses  of  rock,  and 
the  crumbling  away  of  the  mighty  substance.  Cultiva- 


1813]  TO  MISS  SNEYD  203 

tion  has  crept  up  its  sides  to  a  prodigious  height.  A 
little  cottage  nestled  just  under  the  mountain's  huge 
stone  cap.  The  fragments  of  rock  that  have  rolled 
down,  some  of  them  across  the  road,  are  ten  times  the 
size  of  the  rock  in  Mr.  Keating' s  lawn,1  and  in  contrast 
with  this  idea  of  danger  are  sheep  and  lambs  feeding 
quietly;  the  lambs  looking  not  larger  than  little  Fran- 
cis's deceased  kittens,  Muff  and  Tippet. 

We  reached  Con  way  at  six  o'clock.  The  landlady 
of  the  Harp  Inn  knew  my  father,  and  recollected  Lovell 
and  my  Aunt  Kuxton.  The  boy  to  whom  Lovell  used 
to  be  so  good,  and  who  stopped  my  father  on  Penman- 
mawr  to  tell  him  that  Lovell  had  given  him  Lazy  Law- 
rence, was  drowned  with  many  others  crossing  the  ferry 
in  a  storm.  The  old  harper  who  used  to  be  the  delight 
of  travelers  is  now  in  a  state  of  dotage.  There  was  no 
harper  at  Bangor;  the  waiter  told  us  "they  were  no 
profit  to  master,  and  was  always  in  the  way  in  the  pas- 
sage; so  master  never  lets  them  come  now." 

In  the  midst  of  all  the  sublime  and  beautiful  I  had 
a  happy  mixture  of  the  comic,  for  we  had  a  Welsh 
postilion  who  entertained  us  much  by  his  contracted 
vocabulary,  and  still  more  contracted  sphere  of  ideas. 
He  and  my  father  could  never  understand  one  another, 
because  my  father  said  "quarry,"  and  the  Welshman 
said  "  querry ; "  and  the  burden  of  all  he  said  was  con- 
tinually asking  if  we  would  not  like  to  be  "driven  to 
Caernarvon. " 

Friday  morning,  seven  o'clock,  dressed,   and  ready 

i  A  curious  isolated  stone,  about  ten  feet  by  four,  which  stood  in  the 
Vicarage  lawn  at  Edgeworthstown,  said  to  have  been  aimed  at  the 
church  by  a  Pagan  giant  from  the  Hill  of  Ardagh.  It  is  now  destroyed. 


204  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [APRIL 

to  go  on  with  my  scribbling.  I  assure  you,  my  dear 
kind  Aunt  Mary,  it  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me  to  write 
this  letter  at  odd  minutes  while  the  horses  are  changing, 
or  after  breakfast  or  dinner  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  at 
a  time,  so  that  it  is  impossible  that  it  should  tire  me. 
I  owe  all  my  present  conveniences  for  writing  to  vari- 
ous Sneyds;  I  use  Emma  Sneyd's  pocket- inkstand;  my 
ivory-cutter  penknife  was  the  gift  of  my  Aunt  Charlotte, 
and  my  little  Sappho  seal  a  present  of  Aunt  Mary's. 

For  miles  we  have  had  beautiful  hollies  in  the 
hedges;  I  wish  my  Aunt  Charlotte  would  be  so  kind  as 
to  have  a  few  small  hollies  out  of  Wilkinson's  garden 
planted  in  the  new  ditch  between  Wood's  and  Duffy's; 
also  some  cuttings  of  honeysuckles  and  pyracanthus  — 
enough  can  be  had  from  my  garden.  I  must  finish 
abruptly. 

TO    MKS.   RTJXTON. 

LIVERPOOL,  April  6, 1813. 

Many  times  —  a  hundred  times  within  this  week  — 
have  I  wished,  my  dearest  aunt,  to  talk  over  with  you 
the  things  and  people  I  have  seen.  I  am  very  well, 
very  happy,  and  much  entertained  and  interested. 

Liverpool  is  very  fine  and  very  grand,  and  my  father 
soon  found  out  Mr.  Roscoe;  he  was  so  good  as  to  come 
to  see  us,  and  invited  us  to  his  house,  Allerton  Hall, 
about  seven  miles  from  Liverpool.  He  is  a  benevolent, 
cheerful,  gentlemanlike  old  man;  tall,  neither  thin  nor 
fat,  thick  gray  hair.  He  is  very  like  the  prints  you 
have  seen  of  him;  his  bow  courteous,  not  courtly;  his 
manner  frank  and  prepossessing,  without  pretension  of 
any  kind.  He  enters  into  conversation  readily,  and 


1813]  TO  MRS.  KUXTON  205 

immediately  tells  something  entertaining  or  interesting, 
seeming  to  follow  the  natural  course  of  his  own  thoughts, 
or  of  yours,  without  effort.  Mrs.  Roscoe  seems  to 
adore  her  husband,  and  to  be  so  fond  of  her  children, 
and  has  such  a  good  understanding  and  such  a  warm 
heart,  it  is  impossible  not  to  like  her.  Mr.  Roscoe 
gave  himself  up  to  us  the  whole  day.  AUerton  Hall  is 
a  spacious  house,  in  a  beautiful  situation;  fine  library, 
every  room  filled  with  pictures,  many  of  them  presents 
from  persons  in  Italy  who  admired  his  Leo  the  Tenth. 
One  of  Tasso  has  a  sort  of  mad  vigilance  in  the  eyes,  as 
if  he  that  instant  saw  the  genius  that  haunted  him. 
Mr.  Roscoe  has  arranged  his  collection  admirably,  so  as 
to  show,  in  chronological  order  in  edifying  gradation, 
the  progress  of  painting.  The  picture  which  he  prized 
the  most  was  by  one  of  Raphael's  masters,  not  in  the 
least  valuable  in  itself,  but  for  a  frieze  below  it  by 
Michael  Angelo,  representing  the  destruction  of  the 
Oracles;  it  is  of  a  gray  color.  Mr.  Roscoe  thinks  it 
one  of  Michael  Angelo 's  earliest  performances,  and  says 
it  is  conceded  to  be  the  only  original  Michael  Angelo 
in  England.  Of  this  I  know  nothing,  but  I  know  that 
it  struck  me  as  full  of  genius,  and  I  longed  for  you  and 
Margaret  when  we  looked  at  a  portfolio  full  of  Michael 
Angelo's  sketches,  drawings,  and  studies.  It  is  admi- 
rable to  see  the  pains  that  a  really  great  man  takes  to 
improve  a  first  idea.  Turning  from  these  drawings  to 
a  room  full  of  Fuseli's  horribly  distorted  figures,  I  could 
not  help  feeling  astonishment,  not  only  at  the  bad  taste, 
but  at  the  infinite  conceit  and  presumption  of  Fuseli. 
How  could  this  man  make  himself  a  name !  I  believe 
he  gave  these  pictures  to  Mr.  Roscoe,  else  I  suppose 


206  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [APRIL 

they  would  not  be  here  sprawling  their  fantastic  lengths, 
like  misshapen  dreams.  Instead  of  le  beau,  they  ex- 
hibit le  laid  ideal. 

At  dinner  Darwin's  poetry  was  mentioned,  and  Mr. 
Roscoe  neither  ran  him  down  nor  cried  him  up.  He 
said  exactly  the  truth,  that  he  was  misled  by  a  false 
theory  of  poetry  —  that  everything  should  be  picture  — 
and  that  therefore  he  has  not  taken  the  means  to  touch 
the  feelings;  and  Mr.  Roscoe  made  what  seemed  to  me 
a  new  and  just  observation,  that  writers  of  secondary 
powers,  when  they  are  to  represent  either  objects  of 
nature  or  feelings  of  the  human  mind,  always  begin  by 
a  simile;  they  tell  you  what  it  is  like,  not  what  it  is. 

April  9. 

I  finish  this  at  Mr.  Holland's,  at  Knutsford.  We 
spent  a  delightful  day  at  Manchester,  where  we  owed 
our  chief  pleasure  to  Dr.  Ferrier  and  his  daughter. 

TO    MISS    HONORA    EDGEWORTH. 

DERBY,  April  25, 1813. 

We  have  been  now  five  days  at  Mr.  Strutt's.  We 
have  been  treated  with  so  much  hospitality  and  kind- 
ness by  him,  and  he  showed  such  a  high  esteem,  and  I 
may  say  affection  for  my  father,  that  even  if  he  had  not 
the  superior  understanding  he  possesses,  it  would  be 
impossible  for  me  not  to  like  him.  From  the  moment 
we  entered  his  house  he  gave  up  his  whole  time  to  us, 
his  servants,  his  carriage;  everything  and  everybody  in 
his  family  were  devoted  to  us,  and  all  was  done  with 
such  simplicity  of  generosity,  that  we  felt  at  ease  even 
while  we  were  loaded  with  favors.  This  house  is  in- 


1813]  TO  MISS  HONORA  EDGEWORTH  207 

deed,  as  Sneyd  and  William  described  it,  a  palace;  and 
it  is  plain  that  the  convenience  of  the  inhabitants  has 
everywhere  been  consulted;  the  ostentation  of  wealth 
nowhere  appears. 

Seven  hours  of  one  day  Mr.  Strutt  and  his  nephew 
Jedediah  gave  up  to  showing  us  the  cotton-mills,  and 
another  whole  morning  he  gave  up  to  showing  to  us  the 
infirmary;  he  built  it  —  a  noble  building;  hot  air  from 
below  conveyed  by  a  cockle  all  over  the  house.  The 
whole  institution  a  most  noble  and  touching  sight;  such 
a  great  thing,  planned  and  carried  into  successful  execu- 
tion in  so  few  years  by  one  man ! 

We  dined  at  Mr.  Joseph  Strutt' s,  and  were  in  the 
evening  at  Mr.  George  Strutt's;  and  I  will  name  some 
of  the  people  we  met,  for  Sneyd  and  William  will  like 
to  know  whom  we  saw:  Dr.  Forrester,  Mr.  French, 
Miss  French,  who  has  good  taste,  as  she  proved  by  her 
various  compliments  to  Sneyd;  Miss  Broadhurst,  not 
my  heiress,  though  she  says  that,  after  the  publication 
of  "The  Absentee,"  people  used  to  turn  their  heads 
when  she  was  announced,  and  ask  if  that  was  Miss 
Edgeworth's  Miss  Broadhurst!  She  met  Sneyd  in 
Dublin;  has  been  lately  at  Kilkenny,  and  admired 
Mr.  Rothe's  acting  of  Othello.  We  saw  a  good  deal  of 
Mr.  Sylvester,1  who  is,  I  think,  a  man  of  surprising 
abilities,  of  a  calm  and  fearless  mind;  an  original  and 
interesting  character.  Edward  Strutt  is  indeed  all  that 
Sneyd  and  William  described  —  a  boy  of  great  abilities, 
affectionate,  and  with  a  frank  countenance  and  manner 
which  win  at  once.  One  of  our  greatest  pleasures  has 
been  the  hearing  everybody,  from  Edward  upwards, 
i  The  inventor  of  the  cockle  or  Sylvester  stove. 


208  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [APRIL 

speak  of  Sneyd  and  William  with  such  affection,  and 
with  such  knowledge  of  their  characters.  We  all  like 
Miss  Lawrence. 

We  have  been  at  the  Priory;  Mrs.  Darwin  at  first 
much  out  of  spirits.  Besides  the  death  of  her  son,  she 
had  lost  a  grandchild,  and  her  daughter  Harriet,  Mrs. 
Maling,  had  just  sailed  with  her  husband  for  the  Medi- 
terranean. The  Priory  is  a  beautiful  place,  and  Emma 
Darwin  very  beautiful. 

We  breakfasted  at  Markeaton  with  Mr.  Mundy;  he 
is  a  charming  old  gentleman,  lively,  polite,  and  playful 
as  if  he  was  twenty.  He  was  delighted  to  see  my 
father,  and  they  talked  over  their  school-days  with 
great  zest.  My  father  was,  you  know,  at  school,  Mr. 
Mundy 's  horse,  "Little  Driver." 

CAMBRIDGE,  Wednesday. 

My  mother  will  tell  you  the  history  of  our  night- 
travels  over  the  bad  road  between  Leicester  and  Ketter- 
ing;  my  father  holding  the  lantern  stuck  up  against  one 
window,  and  my  mother  against  the  other  the  bit  of 
wax-candle  Kitty  gave  me.  I  don't  think  we  could 
have  got  on  without  it.  Pray  tell  her,  for  she  laughed 
when  I  put  it  in  my  box,  and  said  it  might  be  of  vast 
use  to  us  at  some  odd  place. 

Mr.  Smedley  has  just  called;  tell  Sneyd  we  think 
him  very  pleasing.  I  inclose  the  "Butterfly's  Ball" 
for  Sophy,  and  a  letter  to  the  King  written  by  Dr.  Hol- 
land when  six  years  old;  his  father  found  him  going 
with  it  to  the  post.  Give  it  to  Aunt  Mary. 

This  letter  was  an  offer  from  Master  Holland  to  raise 


1813]  TO  C.   SNEYD   EDGEWORTH  209 

a  regiment.  He  and  some  of  his  little  comrades  had 
got  a  drum  and  a  flag,  and  used  to  go  through  the 
manual  exercise.  It  was  a  pity  the  letter  did  not  reach 
the  King;  he  would  have  been  delighted  at  it. 

TO    C.    SNEYD    EDGEWORTH. 

LONDON,  May  1, 1813. 

Please  to  take  this  in  small  doses,  but  not  fasting. 

Let  us  go  back,  if  you  please,  to  Cambridge.  Thurs- 
day morning  we  went  to  breakfast  with  Mr.  Smedley. 
It  had  been  a  dreadful  rainy  night,  but  luckily  the  rain 
ceased  in  the  morning,  and  the  streets  were  dried  by 
the  wind  on  purpose  for  us.  In  Sidney  College  we 
found  your  friend  in  neat,  cheerful  rooms,  with  orange- 
fringed  curtains,  pretty  drawings,  and  prints;  breakfast- 
table  as  plentifully  prepared  as  you  could  have  had  it  — 
tea,  coffee,  tongue,  cold  beef,  exquisite  bread,  and  many 
inches  of  butter.  I  suppose  you  know,  but  no  one  else 
at  home  can  guess,  why  I  say  inches  of  butter.  All 
the  butter  in  Cambridge  must  be  stretched  into  rolls  a 
yard  in  length  and  an  inch  in  diameter,  and  these  are 
sold  by  inches,  and  measured  out  by  compasses,  in  a 
truly  mathematical  manner,  worthy  of  a  university. 

Mr.  Smedley  made  us  feel  at  home  at  once;  my 
mother  made  tea,  I  coffee;  he  called  you  "Sneyd,"  and 
my  father  seemed  quite  pleased.  After  having  admired 
the  drawings  and  pictures,  and  Fanny's  kettle-holder, 
we  sallied  forth  with  our  friendly  guide.  It  was  quite 
fine  and  sunshiny,  and  the  gardens  and  academic  shades 
really  beautiful.  We  went  to  the  University  Hall  — 
the  election  of  a  new  Professor  to  the  Chemical  Profes- 
sorship was  going  on.  Parish  was  one  of  the  candi- 


210  MARIA  EDGEWOETH  [MAT 

dates :  the  man  of  whom  Leslie  Foster  used  to  talk  in 
such  raptures  when  he  first  came  from  Cambridge ;  the 
man  who  lectured  on  arches,  and  whose  paradox  of  the 
one-toothed  wheel  William  will  recollect.  My  father 
was  introduced  to  him,  and  invited  him  to  dine  with 
us;  Mr.  Parish  accepted  the  invitation.  We  sat  on  a 
bench  with  a  few  ladies.  A  number  of  Fellows,  with 
black  tiles  on  their  heads,  walked  up  and  down  the 
hall,  whispering  to  one  another;  and  in  five  minutes 
Mr.  Smedley  said,  "The  election  is  over;  I  must  go 
and  congratulate  Mr.  Professor  Farish." 

We  next  proceeded  to  the  University  Library,  not 
nearly  so  fine  as  the  Dublin  College  Library.  Saw 
Edward  the  Sixth's  famous  little  MS.  exercise-book; 
hand  good,  and  ink  admirable;  shame  to  the  modern 
chemists,  who  cannot  make  half  as  good  ink  now !  Saw 
Faustus's  first  printed  book  and  a  Persian  letter  to  Lord 
Wellesley,  and  an  Indian  idol,  said  to  be  made  of  rice, 
looking  like,  and  when  I  lifted  it  feeling  as  heavy  as, 
marble.  Mr.  Smedley  smiled  at  my  being  so  taken 
with  an  idol,  and  I  told  him  that  I  was  curious  about 
this  rice-marble,  because  we  had  lately  seen  at  Derby  a 
vase  of  similar  substance,  about  which  there  had  been 
great  debates.  Mr.  Smedley  then  explained  to  me  that 
the  same  word  in  Persian  expresses  rice  and  the  compo- 
sition of  which  these  idols  are  made. 

We  saw  the  MS.  written  on  papyrus  leaves;  I  had 
seen  the  papyrus  at  the  Liverpool  Botanic  Garden,  and 
had  wondered  how  the  stiff  bark  could  be  rolled  up; 
and  here  I  saw  that  it  is  not  rolled  up,  but  cut  in  strips 
and  fastened  with  strings  at  each  end. 

In  this  library  were  three  casts,  taken  after  death  — 


1813]  TO   C.  SNEYD   EDGEWOETH  211 

how  or  why  they  came  there  I  don't  know,  but  they 
were  very  striking  —  one  of  Charles  XII. ,  with  the 
hole  in  the  forehead  where  the  bullet  entered  at  the 
siege  of  Fredericshall ;  that  of  Pitt,  very  like  his  statue 
from  the  life,  and  all  the  prints  of  him;  and  that  of 
Fox,  shocking!  no  character  of  greatness  or  ability  — 
nothing  but  pain,  weakness,  and  imbecility.  It  is  said 
to  be  so  unlike  what  he  was  in  health,  that  none  would 
know  it.  One  looks  at  casts  taken  after  death  with 
curiosity  and  interest,  and  yet  it  is  not  probable  that 
they  should  show  the  real  natural  or  habitual  character 
of  the  person;  they  can  often  only  mark  the  degree  of 
bodily  pain  or  ease  felt  in  the  moment  of  death.  I 
think  these  casts  made  me  pause  to  reflect  more  than 
anything  else  I  saw  this  day. 

Went  next  to  Trinity  College  Library;  beautiful!  I 
liked  the  glass  doors  opening  to  the  gardens  at  the  end, 
and  trees  in  full  leaf.  The  proportions  of  this  room  are 
excellent,  and  everything  but  the  ceiling,  which  is  too 
plain.  The  busts  of  Bacon  and  Newton  excellent;  but 
that  of  Bacon  looks  more  like  a  courtier  than  a  philoso- 
pher; his  ruff  is  elegantly  plaited  in  white  marble.  By 
Cipriani's  painted  window,  with  its  glorious  anachro- 
nisms, we  were  much  amused ;  and  I  regret  that  it  is  not 
recorded  in  "  Irish  Bulls. "  It  represents  the  presentation 
of  Sir  Isaac  Newton  to  His  Majesty  George  the  Third, 
seated  on  his  throne,  and  Bacon  seated  on  the  steps  of 
the  said  throne  writing!  Cipriani  had  made  the  King 
Heniy  VIII.,  but  the  Fellows  of  the  College  thought  it 
would  be  pretty  to  pay  a  compliment  to  His  Gracious 
Majesty  George  HI.,  so  they  made  Cipriani  cut  off 
Henry  VIII. 's  head,  and  stick  King  George  in  his 


212  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAY 

place ;  the  junction  is  still  to  be  seen  in  the  first  design 
of  the  picture,  covered  with  a  pasted  paper  cravat !  like 
the  figure  that  changes  heads  in  the  "Little  Henry" 
book. 

Saw  Milton's  MSS.  of  his  lesser  poems,  and  his  let- 
ters and  his  plan  of  a  tragedy  on  the  subject  of  "Para- 
dise Lost,"  which  tragedy  I  rejoice  he  did  not  write. 
I  have  not  such  delight  in  seeing  the  handwriting  of 
great  authors  and  great  folk  as  some  people  have;  be- 
sides, by  this  time  I  had  become  very  hungry,  and  was 
right  glad  to  accept  Mr.  Smedley's  proposal  that  we 
should  repair  to  his  rooms  and  take  some  sandwiches. 

Kested,  ate,  talked,  looked  at  the  engravings  of 
Clarke's  marbles,  and  read  the  account  of  how  these 
ponderous  marbles  had  been  transported  to  England. 
We  saw  the  marbles  themselves.  The  famous  enormous 
head  of  Ceres  must  have  belonged  to  a  gigantic  statue, 
and  perhaps  at  a  great  height  may  have  had  a  fine 
effect.  It  is  in  a  sadly  mutilated  condition;  there  is 
no  face;  the  appearance  of  the  head  in  front  is  exactly 
like  that  of  Sophy's  doll,  whose  face  has  peeled  off,  yet 
Clarke  strokes  it  and  talks  of  its  beautiful  contour. 
The  hair  is  fine,  and  the  figure,  from  its  vast  size,  may 
be  sublime. 

After  having  recruited  our  strength,  we  set  out  again 
to  the  Vice-Chancellor  Davis's,  to  see  a  famous  picture 
of  Cromwell.  As  we  knocked  at  his  Vice-Chancellor- 
ship's door,  Mr.  Smedley  said  to  me,  "Now,  Miss 
Edgeworth,  if  you  would  but  settle  in  Cambridge !  here 
is  our  Vice- Chancellor  a  bachelor  .  .  .  do  consider 
about  it." 

We  went  upstairs;  found  the  Vice- Chancellor's  room 


1813]  TO  C.   SNEYD  EDGE  WORTH  213 

empty;  had  leisure  before  he  appeared  to  examine  the 
fine  picture  of  Cromwell,  in  which  there  is  more  the 
expression  of  greatness  of  mind  and  determination  than 
his  usual  character  of  hypocrisy.  This  portrait  seems 
to  say,  "Take  away  that  bauble,"  not  "We  are  looking 
for  the  corkscrew." 

The  Vice- Chancellor  entered,  and  such  a  wretched, 
pale,  unhealthy  object  I  have  seldom  beheld!  He 
seemed  crippled  and  writhing  with  rheumatic  pains, 
hardly  able  to  walk.  After  a  few  minutes  had  passed, 
Mr.  Smedley  came  round  to  me  and  whispered,  "Have 
you  made  up  your  mind  ?  "  "  Yes,  quite,  thank  you. " 

Now  for  the  beauty  of  Cambridge  —  the  beauty  of 
beauties  —  King's  College  Chapel!  On  the  first  en- 
trance I  felt  silenced  by  admiration.  I  never  saw  any- 
thing at  once  so  beautiful  and  so  sublime.  The  prints 
give  a  good  idea  of  the  beauty  of  the  spandreled  ceil- 
ing, with  its  rich  and  light  ornaments;  but  no  engraved 
representation  can  give  an  idea  of  the  effect  of  size, 
height,  and  continuity  of  grandeur  in  the  whole  build- 
ing. Besides,  the  idea  of  DURATION,  the  sublime  idea 
of  having  lasted  for  ages,  is  more  fully  suggested  by  the 
sight  of  the  real  building  than  it  can  be  by  any  repre- 
sentation or  description,  for  which  reason  I  only  tell 
you  the  effect  it  had  upon  my  mind. 

The  organ  began  to  play  an  anthem  of  Handel's  while 
we  were  in  the  chapel;  I  wished  for  you,  my  dear 
Sneyd,  particularly  at  that  moment !  Your  friend  took 
us  up  the  hundred  stairs  to  the  roof,  where  he  was 
delighted  with  the  sound  of  the  organ  and  the  chanting 
voices  rising  from  the  choir  below.  My  father  was 
absorbed  in  the  mechanical  wonders  of  the  roof;  that 


214  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAY 

stone  roof,  of  which  Sir  Christopher  Wren  said,  "  Show 
me  how  the  first  stone  was  laid,  and  I  will  show  you 
how  the  second  is  laid." 

Mr.  Smedley  exclaimed,  "Is  not  the  sound  of  the 
organ  fine  1 "  To  which  my  father,  at  cross-purposes, 
answered,  "Yes,  the  iron  was  certainly  added  after- 
wards. " 

Mr.  Smedley  at  once  confessed  that  he  had  no  know- 
ledge or  taste  for  mechanics,  but  he  had  the  patience 
and  good  nature  to  walk  up  and  down  this  stone  plat- 
form for  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  He  stood  observ- 
ing my  mother's  very  eager  examination  with  my  father 
of  the  defects  in  the  wooden  roof,  and  pointing  out  where 
it  had  been  cut  away  to  admit  the  stone,  as  a  proof  that 
the  stone  roof  had  been  an  afterthought;  and  at  last 
turned  to  me  with  a  look  of  astonishment.  "Mrs. 
Edgeworth  seems  to  have  this  taste  for  mechanics  too." 
He  spoke  of  it  as  a  kind  of  mania.  So  I  nodded  at 
him  very  gravely,  and  answered,  "  Yes,  you  will  find  us 
all  tinctured  with  it,  more  or  less." 

At  last,  to  Mr.  Smedley 's  great  joy,  he  got  my 
father  alive  off  this  roof,  and  on  his  way  to  Downing, 
the  new  college  of  which  Leslie  Foster  talked  so  much, 
and  said  was  to  be  like  the  Parthenon.  Shockingly 
windy  walk;  thought  my  brains  would  have  been  blown 
out.  Passed  Peter  House,  and  saw  the  rooms  in  which 
Gray  lived,  and  the  irons  of  his  fire-escape  at  the  win- 
dow. Warned  Mr.  Smedley  of  the  danger  of  my  father 
being  caught  by  a  coachmaker's  yard  which  we  were  to 
pass.  My  father  overheard  me,  laughed,  and  contented 
himself  with  a  side  glance  at  the  springs  of  gigs,  and 
escaped  that  danger.  I  nearly  disgraced  myself,  as  the 


1813]  TO  C.   SNEYD  EDGEWORTH  215 

company  were  admiring  the  front  of  Emmanuel  College, 
by  looking  at  a  tall  man  stooping  to  kiss  a  little  child. 
Got  at  last,  in  spite  of  the  wind  and  coachmakers' 
yards,  within  view  of  Downing  College,  and  was  sadly 
disappointed.  It  will  never  bear  comparison  with 
King's  College  Chapel. 

Home  to  dinner;  Mr.  Farish  and  Mr.  Smedley  were 
very  agreeable  and  entertaining,  and  did  very  well 
together,  though  such  different  persons.  Mr.  Farish  is 
the  most  primitive,  simple-hearted  man  I  ever  saw. 

The  bells  were  ringing  in  honor  of  Professor  Farish's 
election,  or,  as  Mr.  Smedley  said,  at  the  Professor's 
expense. 

Farish  insisted  upon  it  very  coolly  that  they  were  not 
ringing  for  him,  but  for  a  shoulder  of  mutton. 

"  A  shoulder  of  mutton !  what  do  you  mean  1 " 

"Why,  a  man  left  to  the  University  a  shoulder  of 
mutton  for  every  Thursday,  on  condition  that  the  bells 
should  always  ring  for  him  on  that  day;  so  this  is  for 
the  shoulder  of  mutton." 

Mr.  Farish  paid  us  no  compliments  in  words,  but  his 
coming  to  spend  the  evening  with  us  the  day  of  his 
election,  when  I  suppose  he  might  have  been  feasted  by 
all  the  grand  and  learned  in  the  University,  was,  I 
think,  the  greatest  honor  my  father  has  received  since 
he  came  to  England;  and  so  he  felt  it. 

I  suppose  you  know  that  Mr.  Smedley  has  published 
minutes  of  the  trial  of  that  Mr.  Kendal  who  was  accused 
of  having  set  fire  to  Sidney  College,  and  who,  though 
brought  off  by  the  talents  of  Garrow,  was  so  generally 
thought  to  be  guilty,  and  to  have  only  escaped  by  a 
quirk  of  the  law,  that  he  has  been  expelled  the  Univer- 


216  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAT 

sity.  What  a  strange  thing  that  this  trial  at  Cambridge 
and  that  in  Dublin,  of  incendiaries,1  should  take  place 
within  so  short  a  time  of  each  other!  It  seems  as  if 
the  fashion  of  certain  crimes  prevailed  at  certain  times. 

"Good-by,  Mr.  Smedley!  I  hope  you  like  us  half 
as  well  as  we  liked  you."  We  thought  it  well  worth 
our  while  to  have  come  thirty  miles  out  of  our  way  to 
see  him  and  Cambridge,  and  you,  Sneyd,  have  the 
thanks  of  the  whole  party  for  your  advice. 

In  passing  through  the  village  of  Trumpington,  and 
just  as  we  came  within  sight  of  Dr.  Clarke's  house,2  I 
urged  my  father  to  call  upon  him. 

"Without  an  introduction,  and  two  ladies  with  me! 
No,  with  all  my  impudence,  my  dear  Maria,  I  cannot 
do  that." 

"Oh,  do!  you  will  repent  afterwards  if  you  do  not; 
we  shall  never  have  another  opportunity  of  seeing  him." 

"Well,  at  your  peril,  then,  be  it." 

He  let  down  the  glass,  and  ordered  the  postilion  to 
drive  up  to  Dr.  Clarke's  house.  I  quailed  in  the  corner 
the  moment  I  heard  the  order  given,  but  said  nought. 
Out  jumped  my  father,  and  during  two  or  three  min- 
utes whilst  he  was  in  the  house,  and  my  mother  and  1 
waiting  in  the  carriage  at  the  door,  I  was  in  an  agony. 
But  it  was  soon  over;  for  out  came  little  Dr.  Clarke  fly- 
ing to  us,  all  civility,  and  joy,  and  gratitude,  and  honor, 
and  pleasure,  "ashamed  and  obliged,"  as  he  handed  us 
up  the  steps  and  into  a  very  elegant  drawing-room. 

I  do  not  know  whether  you  have  seen  him,  but  from 

1  The  trial  in  Dublin  was  that  of  "  Moscow  Cavendish." 

2  Edward  Daniel  Clarke,  1769-1822,  one  of  the  most  distinguished 
travelers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  was  Professor  of  Mineralogy  at 
Cambridge. 


1813]  TO  C.   SNEYD  EDGEWORTH  217 

the  print  I  had  imagined  he  was  a  large  man,  with  dark 
eyes  and  hair,  and  a  penetrating  countenance.  No  such 
thing;  he  is  a  little,  square,  pale,  flat-faced,  good- 
natured-looking,  fussy  man,  with  very  intelligent  eyes, 
yet  great  credulity  of  countenance,  and  still  greater 
benevolence.  In  a  moment  he  whisked  about  the  dif- 
ferent rooms  upstairs  and  down,  to  get  together  books, 
sketches,  everything  that  could  please  us;  and  Angelica's 
drawings  —  she  draws  beautifully. 

Angelica  herself,  Mrs.  Clarke,  is  a  timid,  dark,  soft- 
eyed  woman,  with  a  good  figure.  I  am  told  it  is  rude 
to  say  a  person  is  very  clean,  but  I  may  praise  Angelica 
for  looking  elegantly  clean,  brilliantly  white,  with  a 
lace  Mary-Queen-of- Scots  cap,  like  that  which  I  am 
sure  you  remember  on  Lady  Adelaide  Forbes.  She 
received  us  with  timid  courtesy,  but  her  timidity  soon 
wore  off,  and  the  half  hour  we  spent  here  made  us  wish 
to  have  spent  an  hour.  Dr.  Clarke  seemed  highly 
gratified  that  his  travels  in  Greece  had  interested  us  so 
much;  showed  us  the  original  drawings  of  Moscow,  and 
a  book  of  views  of  the  ruins  at  Athens  by  the  draughts- 
man who  went  out  with  the  Due  de  Choiseul  Gouffier 
—  beautifully  done;  mere  outlines,  perfectly  distinct, 
and  giving,  I  think,  better  architectural  ideas  than  we 
have  from  more  finished  and  flattered  drawings. 

We  were  sorry  not  to  see  more,  and  glad  we  had  seen 
so  much,  of  Dr.  Clarke  and  his  Angelica,  and  his  fine 
little  boy  about  five  years  old.  A  tall,  dark-eyed,  fine, 
fashionable-looking  man,  Dr.  Clarke  introduced  to  us  as 
Mr.  Walpole.  My  father  entered  into  conversation 
with  him,  and  found  he  had  known  Captain  Beaufort 
in  the  Mediterranean. 


218  MAEIA  EDGE  WORTH  [MAY 

When  we  were  going  away,  Dr.  Clarke,  between  my 
mother  and  me,  seemed  puzzled  how  to  get  us  both  into 
the  carriage  at  once;  but  he  called  to  Mr.  Walpole. 

"  Walpole,  put  this  lady  into  the  carriage." 

And  with  a  "  Meadows  "  air  he  obeyed. 

Now  we  are  again  on  the  London  road,  and  nothing 
interrupted  our  perusal  of  "Pride  and  Prejudice"  for 
the  rest  of  the  morning.  I  am  desired  not  to  give  you 
my  opinion  of  "Pride  and  Prejudice,"  but  desire  you 
to  get  it  directly,  and  tell  us  yours. 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

LONDON,  May,  1813. 

I  fear  Madame  de  Stae'Ps  arrival  may  be  put  off  till 
after  we  leave  town.  The  Edinburgh  review  of  her 
book  has  well  prepared  all  the  world  for  her.  The  first 
persons  who  came  to  see  us  were  Sir  Humphry  and 
Lady  Davy,  who  have  been  uniformly  and  zealously 
kind  and  attentive  to  us.  We  have  been  frequently  at 
their  dinners  and  parties,  and  I  should  fill  a  roll  as  long 
as  that  genealogy  Foote  unrolled  across  the  stage,  if  I 
were  to  give  you  a  list  of  the  names  of  all  the  people 
we  have  met  at  their  house.  Of  Lord  Byron  I  can  tell 
you  only  that  his  appearance  is  nothing  that  you  would 
remark.  The  Miss  Berrys  are  all  that  you  have  heard 
of  them  from  people  of  various  tastes ;  consequently  you 
know  that  they  are  well  bred,  and  have  nice  tact  in 
conversation.  Miss  Catharine  Fanshawe  I  particularly 
like;  she  has  delightful  talents.  Her  drawings  have 
charmed  my  mother,  full  of  invention  as  well  as  taste; 
her  Village  School  and  Village  Children  at  Play  are 
beautiful  compositions,  and  her  drawings  for  the  Bath 
Guide  are  full  of  humor  and  character. 


1813]  TO  MISS  EUXTON  219 

Lady  Crewe  has  still  the  remains  of  much  beauty. 
Except  her  dress,  which  happened  to  be  blue,  there 
appeared  to  be  nothing  else  blue  about  her.  The  con- 
trast between  her  really  fashionable  air  and  manners  and 
that  of  the  strugglers  and  imitators  struck  me  much; 
Lady  Elizabeth  Whitbread  is,  in  one  word,  delightful. 
Miss  Fox  very  agreeable  —  converses  at  once,  without 
preface  or  commonplace;  Lady  Charlotte  Lindsay  ditto; 
Lady  Darnley  has  been  very  polite  in  her  attentions; 
both  Lord  and  Lady  Hardwick  peculiarly  gracious. 
Lord  Somerville  I  cannot  help  being  charmed  with,  for 
he  says  he  is  charmed  with  Lady  Delacour  and  Lady 
Geraldine,  whom  he  pronounces  to  be  perfect  women  of 
fashion,  and  says  they  are  in  high  repute  in  the  equer- 
ry's room  at  court.  He  was  quite  indignant  against 
certain  pretenders  to  fashion.  I  told  him  the  remark 
of  a  friend  of  ours,  that  a  gentleman  or  gentlewoman 
cannot  be  made  under  two  generations.  "In  less  than 
five,  madam,  I  think  it  scarcely  possible,"  said  he. 

Lady  Lansdowne,  taking  in  beauty,  character,  con- 
versation, talents,  and  manners,  I  think  superior  to  any 
woman  I  have  seen;  perfectly  natural,  daring  to  be  her- 
self, gentle,  sprightly,  amiable,  and  engaging.  Lydia 
White  has  been  very  kind  to  us,  and  eager  to  bring 
together  people  who  would  suit  and  please  us;  very 
agreeable  dinner  at  her  house;  she  conducts  these  bel 
esprit  parties  well;  her  vivacity  breaks  through  the 
constraint  of  those  who  stand  upon  great  reputations, 
and  are  afraid  of  committing  themselves. 

Charming  amiable  Lady  Wellington!  as  she  truly 
said  of  herself,  she  is  always  "Kitty  Pakenham  to  her 
friends ; "  after  comparison  with  crowds  of  others,  beaux 


220  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAY 

esprits,  fine  ladies  and  fashionable  scramblers  for  noto- 
riety, her  dignified  graceful  simplicity  rises  in  one's 
opinion,  and  we  feel  it  with  more  conviction  of  its 
superiority.  She  showed  us  her  delightful  children. 
Lord  Longford  just  come  to  town;  met  us  yesterday 
at  the  Exhibition  of  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds's  pictures. 
Some  of  these  are  excellent;  his  children,  from  the 
sublime  Samuel  to  the  arch  Gipsy,  are  admirable. 

We  hope  to  see  Mrs.  Siddons  act  on  the  25th;  it  was 
thought  impossible  to  get  a  box,  but  the  moment  my 
father  pronounced  the  name  Edgeworth,  Mr.  Brandon, 
the  box-keeper,  said  he  should  have  one.  Lady  Charle- 
ville,  who  is  a  very  clever  woman,  goes  with  us  with 
her  daughter  and  Lord  Tullamore.  We  have  been  to  a 
grand  night  at  Mrs.  Hope's  —  the  rooms  really  deserve 
the  French  epithet  of  superbe  —  all  of  beauty,  rank, 
and  fashion  that  London  can  assemble,  I  may  say  in  the 
newspaper  style,  were  there.  The  Prince  Regent  stood 
one  third  of  the  night,  holding  converse  with  Lady 
Elizabeth  Monk,  she  leaning  gracefully  on  a  bronze 
ornament  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  in  the  midst  of  the 
sacred  but  very  small  circle  etiquette  could  keep  round 
them.  About  900  people  were  at  this  assembly;  the 
crowd  of  carriages  was  so  great,  that  after  sitting  wait- 
ing in  ours  for  an  hour,  the  coachman  told  us  there  was 
no  chance  of  our  getting  in  unless  we  got  out  and 
walked.  Another  good-natured  coachman  backed  his 
horses,  and  we  bravely  crossed  the  line  and  got  into  the 
house  and  up  the  staircase,  but  no  power  of  ours  could 
have  got  on,  but  for  the  gloriously  large  body  and  the 
good-natured  politeness  of  the  Archbishop  of  Tuam, 
who  fortunately  met  us  at  the  door,  recognized  us  just 


1813]  TO  MISS   RUXTON  221 

as  he  would  have  done  at  Mrs.  Bourke's,  in  the  County 
of  Longford,  and  made  way  for  us  through  the  crowd, 
and  in  the  wake  of  his  greatness  we  sailed  on  prosper- 
ously, and  never  stopped  till  he  presented  us  to  his 
beautiful  daughter,  who  received  us  with  a  winning 
smile.  I  asked  Mr.  Hope  who  some  one  was.  "I 
really  don't  know;  I  don't  know  half  the  people  here, 
nor  do  they  know  me  or  Mrs.  Hope  even  by  sight. 
Just  now  I  was  behind  a  lady  who  was  making  her 
speech,  as  she  thought,  to  Mrs.  Hope,  but  she  was 
addressing  a  stranger."  Among  the  old  beauties  the 
Duchess  of  Rutland  held  her  preeminence  and  looked 
the  youngest. 

A  few  days  after  we  came  to  town  we  were  told  by 
Mr.  Wakefield  that  there  was  to  be  at  the  Freemasons' 
tavern  a  meeting  on  the  Lancasterian  schools,  at  which 
the  reports  of  the  Irish  Education  Committee  were  to 
be  alluded  to,  and  that  the  Dukes  of  Kent  and  Sussex, 
Lord  Lansdowne,  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  and  Mr.  Whit- 
bread  were  all  to  speak.  We  went;  fine  large  hall, 
ranged  with  green  benches  like  a  lecture  room;  raised 
platform  at  one  end  for  the  performers ;  armchairs  for 
the  Royal  Dukes,  and  common  chairs  for  common  men. 
Waited  an  hour,  and  were  introduced  to  various  people, 
among  others,  to  Mr.  Allen,  who  is  famous  for  his 
generous  benevolence,  who  lives  most  economically  and 
gives  thousands  as  easily  as  others  would  give  pence. 
Dumont  came  and  seated  himself  between  my  mother 
and  me,  and  the  hour's  waiting  was  so  filled  with  con- 
versation that  it  seemed  but  five  minutes. 

Enter  on  the  platform  the  royal  Dukes  preceded  by 
stewards  with  white  staves;  gentlemen  of  the  Commit- 


222  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAT 

tee  ranged  at  the  back  of  the  theatre,  one  row  in  front 
on  each  side  of  the  Dukes,  Lord  Lansdowne,  Mr.  "Whit- 
bread,  Mr.  Lancaster,  two  or  three  others,  and  Mr. 
Edgeworth.  The  object  of  the  meeting  -was  to  effect  a 
junction  between  the  Bell  and  Lancasterian  parties.  It 
had  been  previously  agreed  that  Lancaster  should  have 
his  debts  paid,  and  should  retire  and  give  up  his  schools. 
Lord  Lansdowne  spoke  extremely  well,  matter  and 
manner;  when  he  adverted  to  the  Board  of  Education 
he  turned  to  my  father  and  called  upon  him  to  support 
his  assertion,  that  the  dignified  clergy  in  Ireland  among 
those  commissioners  had  acted  with  liberality.  It  had 
been  previously  arranged  that  my  father  was  to  move 
the  vote  of  thanks  to  the  ladies,  but  of  this  we  knew 
nothing;  and  when  he  rose  and  when  I  heard  the  Duke 
of  Kent  in  his  sonorous  voice  say  "Mr.  Edgeworth,"  I 
was  so  frightened  I  dared  not  look  up,  but  I  was  soon 
reassured.  My  father's  speaking  was,  next  to  Lord 
Lansdowne's,  the  best  I  heard,  and  loud  plaudits  con- 
vinced me  that  I  was  not  singular  in  this  opinion.  The 
Duke  of  Kent  speaks  well  and  makes  an  excellent  chair- 
man. 

Yesterday  my  father  was  invited  to  a  Lancasterian 
dinner;  for  an  account  of  it  I  refer  you  to  Lord  Fingal, 
next  to  whom  my  father  sat,  but  as  you  may  not  see 
him  immediately  I  must  tell  you  that  my  father's 
health  was  drank,  and  that  when  his  name  was  men- 
tioned, loud  applause  ensued,  and  the  Duke  of  Bedford, 
after  speaking  of  the  fourteenth  report  of  the  Irish 
Board  of  Education,  pronounced  a  eulogium  on  "the 
excellent  letter  which  is  appended  to  that  report,  full 
of  liberality  and  good  sense,  on  which  indeed  the  best 


1813]  TO  MISS  RUXTON  223 

part  of  the  report  seems  founded.  I  mean  the  letter 
by  Mr.  Edgeworth,  to  whom  this  country  as  well  as 
Ireland  is  so  much  indebted." 

Yesterday  I  had  a  good  hour  in  comfort  to  write  to 
you  before  breakfast,  which  was  scarcely  ended  when  Mr. 
Wakefield  came  in  with  a  letter  from  the  Duke  of  Bed- 
ford, who  is  anxious  to  see  my  father's  experiments  on 
the  draft  of  wheel-carriages  tried.  Then  came  Lord 
Somerville,  who  sat  and  talked  and  invited  us  to  his 
country-house,  but  all  this  did  not  forward  my  letter. 
Then  came  Lady  Darnley;  and  then  my  father  walked 
off  with  Lord  Somerville,  and  we  gave  orders  no  one 
should  be  let  in;  so  we  only  heard  vain  thunders  at  the 
door,  and  I  got  on  half  a  page,  but  then  came  poor 
Peggy  Langan,1  and  her  we  admitted;  she  is  in  an 
excellent  place,  with  Mrs.  Haldimand,  Mrs.  Marcet's 
sister-in-law,  and  she,  Peggy,  sat  and  talked  and  told 
of  how  happy  she  was,  and  how  good  her  mistress  was, 
and  we  liked  her  simplicity  and  goodness  of  heart,  but 
as  I  said  before,  all  this  did  not  forward  my  letter. 
Coach  at  the  door.  "Put  on  your  hat,  Maria,  and 
come  out  and  pay  visits." 

To  save  myself  trouble,  I  send  a  list  of  the  visits  we 
made  just  as  my  mother  marked  them  on  the  card  by 
which  we  steered.  God  knows  how  I  should  steer 
without  her.  The  crosses  mark  the  three  places  where 
we  were  let  in.  Lady  Milbanke  is  very  agreeable,  and 
has  a  charming  well-informed  daughter.  Mrs.  Weddell 
is  a  perfectly  well-bred,  most  agreeable  old  lady,  sister 
to  Lady  Rockingham,  who  lived  in  the  Sir  Joshua 

1  Granddaughter  to  the  original  of  Thady,  in  Cattle  Rackrent.  Her 
sister  was  the  origin  of  Simple  Susan. 


224  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAY 

Reynolds  set;  tells  anecdotes  of  Burke,  Fox,  and  Wind- 
ham  —  magnificent  house  —  fine  pictures.  We  spoke  of 
having  just  seen  the  exhibition  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's 
pictures.  "Perhaps  if  you  are  fond  of  paintings  you 
would  take  the  trouble  of  walking  into  the  next  room, 
and  I  will  show  you  what  gives  me  a  particular  interest 
in  Sir  Joshua  Eeynolds's  pictures."  Large  folding- 
doors  opened  —  large  room  full  of  admirable  copies  from 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds  in  crayons,  done  by  Mrs.  Weddell 
herself.  My  mother  says  they  are  quite  astonishing. 
Her  conversation,  as  good  as  her  painting,  passed 
through  many  books  lightly  with  touch-and-go  ease.  I 
mentioned  a  curious  anecdote  of  Madame  d'Arblay; 
that  when  she  landed  at  Portsmouth  a  few  months  ago, 
and  saw  on  a  plate  at  Admiral  Foley's  a  head  of  Lord 
Nelson,  and  the  word  Trafalgar,  she  asked  what  Trafal- 
gar meant.  She  actually,  as  Lady  Spencer  told  me, 
who  had  the  anecdote  from  Doctor  Charles  Burney,  did 
not  know  that  the  English  had  been  victorious,  or  that 
Lord  Nelson  was  dead!  This  is  the  mixed  effect  of  the 
recluse  life  she  led,  and  of  the  care  taken  in  France  to 
keep  the  people  ignorant  of  certain  events.  I  mentioned 
a  similar  instance  in  Thiebault's  "Memoirs,"  of  the 
Chevalier  Mason,  living  at  Potsdam,  and  not  knowing 
anything  of  the  Seven  Years'  War.  Then  Mrs.  Wed- 
dell went  through  Thiebault  and  Madame  de  Bareith's 
"  Memoirs, "  and  asked  if  I  had  ever  happened  to  meet 
with  an  odd  entertaining  book,  Madame  de  Baviere's 
"Memoirs."  How  little  I  thought,  my  dear  Aunt 
Ruxton,  when  you  gave  me  that  book,  that  it  would 
stand  me  in  stead  at  Mrs.  Weddell's  —  we  talked  it 
over  and  had  a  great  deal  of  laughing  and  diversion. 


1813]  TO  MISS  KUXTON  225 

Came  home;  found  my  father  dressing  to  go  to  Sir 
Samuel  Homilly's —  we  two  were  to  dine  at  Lady  Lev- 
inge's;  while  we  were  dressing  a  long  note  from  Miss 
Berry,  sent  by  her  own  maid,  to  apologize  for  a  mistake 
of  her  servants  who  had  said  "not  at  home,"  and  to 
entreat  we  would  look  in  on  her  this  evening  —  much 
hurried.  Lady  Levinge's  dinner,  which  was  not  on 
the  table  till  eight  o'clock,  was  very  entertaining,  be- 
cause quite  a  new  set  of  people.  Called  in  the  evening 
at  Miss  Berry's  —  quite  like  French  society,  most  agree- 
able —  had  a  great  deal  of  conversation  with  Lady  Char- 
lotte Lindsay.  Mr.  Ward  was  there,  but  I  did  not 
hear  him.  Went,  shamefully  late,  to  Mrs.  Sneyd's  — 
then  home;  found  my  father  in  bed  —  stood  at  the  foot 
of  it,  and  heard  his  account  of  his  dinner.  Dr.  Parr, 
Dumont,  Mai  thus,  etc.,  but  I  have  not  time  to  say 
more.  I  have  been  standing  in  my  dressing-gown  writ- 
ing on  the  top  of  a  chest  of  drawers,  and  now  I  must 
dress  for  a  breakfast  at  Lady  Davy's,  where  we  are  to 
meet  Lord  Byron;  but  I  must  say,  that  at  the  third 
place  where  we  were  let  in  yesterday,  Lady  Welling- 
ton's, we  spent  by  far  the  most  agreeable  half-hour  of 
the  day. 

Mrs.  Edgeworth  continues :  — 

One  day,  coming  late  to  dinner  at  Mr.  Homer's,  we 
found  Doctor  Parr  very  angry  at  our  having  delayed, 
and  then  interrupted,  dinner,  but  he  ended  by  giving 
Maria  his  blessing.  One  of  our  pleasantest  days  was 
a  breakfast  at  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Carr's,  at  Hampstead, 
where  we  met  General  and  Mrs.  Bentham,  just  come 


226  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [JUNE 

from  Kussia,  full  of  interesting  information.  Maria 
also  spent  a  day  in  the  country  with  Sir  Samuel  and 
Lady  Romilly,  who  was  so  beautiful  and  so  engaging; 
and  to  this  day's  happiness  Maria  often  recurred.  We 
met  one  evening  at  Lady  Charleville's  Mrs.  Abington, 
with  whom  Maria  was  much  entertained;  she  recited 
two  epilogues  for  us  with  exquisite  wit  and  grace  —  she 
spoke  with  frankness  and  feeling  of  her  career,  when 
often  after  the  triumph  of  success  in  some  brilliant 
character,  splendidly  dressed,  in  the  blaze  of  light,  with 
thunders  of  applause,  she  quitted  the  theatre  for  her 
poor  little  lonely  lodging  —  and  admirably  described  her 
disenchanted,  dispirited  sensations. 

One  morning  Maria  and  I  went  to  Westminster  Ab- 
bey with  some  friends,  among  whom  was  Sir  James 
Mackintosh  —  only  one  morning;  days  might  have  been 
spent  without  exhausting  the  information  he  so  easily, 
and  with  such  enjoyment  to  himself,  as  well  as  to  his 
hearers,  poured  forth  with  quotations,  appropriate  anec- 
dotes, and  allusions  historical,  poetical,  and  biographi- 
cal, as  we  went  along. 

We  unfortunately  missed  seeing  Madame  d'Arblay, 
and  we  left  London  before  the  arrival  of  Madame  de 
Stael.  We  went  on  the  16th  of  June  to  Clifton,  where 
we  spent  some  days  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  King.1 

From  Clifton  we  went  to  Gloucester,  where  Maria 
took  up  a  link  of  her  former  life,  paying  a  visit  to  Mrs. 
Chandler,  from  whom  she  had  received  much  kindness  at 
Mr.  Day's  when  her  eyes  were  inflamed.  We  then  went 
on  to  Malvern,  where  Mrs.  Beddoes  2  was  then  living. 

1  Mr.  Edgeworth's  second  daughter,  Emmeline. 

2  The  third  daughter  —  Anna  Edgeworth. 


1813]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  227 

MARIA    TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

MALVEEN  LINKS,  June,  1813. 

How  good  you  have  been,  my  dear  aunt,  in  sparing 
Sophy  to  Edgeworthstown,  and  since  you  have  been  so 
good  it  is  in  encroaching  human  nature  to  expect  that 
you  will  be  still  better,  and  that  you  and  my  uncle  and 
Mag  will  come  to  Edgeworthstown  for  her;  we  shall  be 
home  in  a  fortnight.  What  joy,  what  delight  to  meet 
you  among  the  dear  faces  who  will  welcome  us  there. 
The  brilliant  panorama  of  London  is  over,  and  I  have 
enjoyed  more  pleasure  and  have  had  more  amusement, 
infinitely  more  than  I  expected,  and  received  more 
attention,  more  kindness  than  I  could  have  thought  it 
possible  would  be  shown  to  me;  I  have  enjoyed  the 
delight  of  seeing  my  father  esteemed  and  honored  by 
the  best  judges  in  England;  I  have  felt  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  my  true  friend  and  mother,  for  she  has  been  a 
mother  to  me,  appreciated  in  the  best  society,  and  now 
with  the  fullness  of  content  I  return  home,  loving  my 
own  friends  and  my  own  mode  of  life  preferably  to  all 
others,  after  comparison  with  all  that  is  fine  and  gay, 
and  rich  and  rare. 

We  spent  four  days  at  Clifton  with  Emmeline,  and 
if  our  journey  to  England  had  been  productive  of  no 
other  good,  I  should  heartily  rejoice  at  our  having 
accomplished  this  purpose.  My  father  was  pleased  and 
happy,  and  liked  all  his  three  grandchildren  very  much. 
You  may  imagine  how  much  pleasure  this  gave  me. 

We  came  here  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  have 
spent  our  time  delightfully  with  Anna  and  her  children, 
and  now  the  carriage  is  at  the  door  to  take  us  to  Mrs. 


228  MAEIA  EDGEWOETH  [JUNE 

Clifford's.  Yesterday  we  went  to  see  Samuel  Essing- 
ton,1  at  the  Essington  hotel.  He  thought  it  was  a  car- 
riage full  of  strangers  and  was  letting  down  the  steps 
when  he  beheld  my  father;  his  whole  face  glowed  with 
delight,  and  the  tears  stood  in  his  projecting  eyes. 
"Master!  Master,  I  declare!  Oh,  sir,  ma'am,  miss, 
Mrs.  Beddoes,  Miss  Edgeworth ;  how  glad  I  am !  " 

He  showed  us  his  excellent  house,  and  walked  us 
round  his  beautiful  little  lawn  and  shrubberies,  all  his 
own  making;  and  cut  moss  roses  and  blush  roses  for  us 
with  such  eagerness  and  delight.  "And  all,  all  owing 
to  you,  sir,  that  first  taught  me." 

At  Mrs.  Clifford's  we  stayed  some  days  —  a  beautiful 
country,  not  far  from  Koss,  which  we  visited,  and  Maria 
was  delighted  to  see  all  the  scenes  of  the  Man  of  Boss. 
At  Mrs.  Clifford's  we  had  one  day  of  most  brilliant 
conversation  between  Maria,  her  father,  and  Sir  James 
Mackintosh,  who  had  just  come  into  that  neighborhood. 
He  joined  us,  unexpectedly,  one  morning  as  we  were 
walking  out,  and  touching  a  shawl  Mrs.  Clifford  wore, 
"A  thousand  looms,"  he  said,  "are  at  work  in  Cash- 
mere at  this  instant  providing  these  for  you." 

TO    MISS    SNEYD    AT    EDGEWORTHSTOWN. 

MRS.  CLIFFORD'S,  June,  1813.    Saturday  Evening. 
Received     Sneyd's     letter.2      Astonishment!      Dear 
Sneyd,  I  hope  he  will  be  as  happy  as  love  and  fortune 

1  The  servant  who  was  so  faithful  and  so  frightened  at  the  time  of  the 
rebellion.    He  had  saved  some  money  and  quitted  the  service  of  the 
Edgeworths  in  1800. 

2  Announcing  his  engagement  to  Miss  Broadhurst.    It  was  singular 
that  this  was  the  name  of  the  heroine  in  Miss  Edgeworth's  Absentee, 


1813]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  229 

can  make  him.  All  my  ideas  are  thrown  into  such 
confusion  by  this  letter  that  I  can  no  more.  We  go  to 
Derby  on  Tuesday. 

TO    MRS.    KTJXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  July  26, 1813. 

I  have  delayed  a  few  days  writing  to  you  in  the 
expectation  of  the  arrival  of  two  frankers  to  send  an 
extract  from  Dr.  Holland's  last  letter,  which  will,  I 
hope,  entertain  you  as  much  as  it  entertained  us.  I 
shall  long  to  hear  of  our  good  friend  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Hamilton's  visit  to  Black  Castle. 

We  have  every  reason  to  be  in  great  anxiety  at  this 
moment  about  a  certain  trunk  containing  all  our  worldly 
duds,  and  "Patronage"  to  boot,  but  still  I  have  not 
been  able  to  work  myself  into  any  fears  about  it,  though 
it  is  a  month  since  we  ought  to  have  seen  it,  nor  have 
we  heard  any  news  of  it.  In  the  mean  time,  as  I  can- 
not set  about  revising  "Patronage,"  I  have  begun  a  new 
series  of  "Early  Lessons,"1  for  which  many  mothers 
told  me  they  wished.  I  feel  that  I  return  with  fresh 
pleasure  to  literary  work  from  having  been  so  long  idle, 
and  I  have  a  famishing  appetite  for  reading.  All  that 
we  saw  in  London,  I  am  sure  I  enjoyed  while  it  was 
passing  as  much  as  possible,  but  I  should  be  very  sorry 
to  live  in  that  whirling  vortex,  and  I  find  my  taste  and 
conviction  confirmed  on  my  return  to  my  natural  friends 
and  my  dear  home. 

I  am  glad  that  some  of  those  who  showed  us  hospi- 

who  selected  from  her  lovers  the  one  who  united  worth  and  wit,  in  rem- 
iniscence of  an  epigram  of  Mr.  Edgeworth  on  himself,  concluding  :  — 

"  There 's  an  edge  to  hU  wit  and  there  's  worth  in  his  heart." 
1  The  second  parts  of  Frank,  Rosamond,  and  Harry  and  Lucy. 


230  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [JUNE 

tality  and  kindness  in  England  should  have  come  so 
soon  to  Ireland,  that  we  may  have  some  little  opportu- 
nity of  showing  our  sense  of  their  attentions.  Lord 
Carrington,  who  franks  this,  is  most  amiable  and  benev- 
olent, without  any  species  of  pretension,  thinking  the 
best  that  can  be  thought  of  everything  and  everybody. 
Mr.  Smith,  his  son,  whom  we  had  not  seen  in  London, 
accompanies  him,  and  his  tutor,  Mr.  Kaye,  a  Cam- 
bridge man,  and  Lord  Gardner,  Lord  Carrington 's  son-in- 
law,  suffering  from  the  gouty  rheumatism,  or  rheumatic 
gout  —  he  does  not  know  or  care  which;  between  the 
twitches  of  his  suffering  he  is  entertaining  and  agreeable. 

We  have  just  seen  a  journal  by  a  little  boy  of  eight 
years  old,  of  a  voyage  from  England  to  Sicily;  the  boy 
is  Lord  Mahon's  son,  Lord  Carrington's  grandson.1  It 
is  one  of  the  best  journals  I  ever  read,  full  of  facts; 
exactly  the  writing  of  a  child,  but  a  very  clever  child. 
It  is  peculiarly  interesting  to  us  from  having  seen  Dr. 
Holland's  letters  from  Palermo.  Lord  Mahon  says  that 
the  alarm  about  the  plague  at  Malta  is  much  greater 
than  it  need  be  —  its  progress  has  been  stopped;  it  was 
introduced  by  a  shoemaker  having,  contrary  to  law  and 
reason,  surreptitiously  brought  some  handkerchiefs  from 
a  vessel  that  had  not  performed  quarantine.  You  will 
nevertheless  rejoice  that  Dr.  Holland  did  not  go  to 
Malta.  How  you  will  regret  the  loss  of  the  portman- 
teau of  which  that  vile  Ali  Pasha  robbed  him. 

Mr.  Fox  dined  with  us  to-day,  and  was  very  agree- 
able. Lord  Carrington  and  his  traveling  companions 
were  at  Farnham,  where  they  were  most  hospitably 
received.  They  had  no  letters  of  introduction  or  inten- 
i  Philip  Henry,  afterwards  fifth  Earl  Stanhope,  the  historian. 


1813]  TO  MRS.    RUXTON  231 

tion  of  going  there ;  but,  finding  a  horrid  inn  at  Cavan, 
they  applied  for  charity  to  a  gentleman  for  lodging. 
The  gentleman  took  them  to  walk  in  Lord  Farnham's 
grounds.  Lord  and  Lady  Farnham  saw  and  invited 
them  to  the  house,  and  they  are  full  of  admiration  and 
almost  affection,  I  think,  for  Lord  and  Lady  Farnham; 
they  are  so  charmed  by  their  hospitality,  their  goodness 
to  the  poor,  their  care  of  the  young  Foxes,  their  mag- 
nificent establishment,  their  neat  cottages  for  their  ten- 
ants, and,  as  Lord  Gardner  sensibly  said,  "their  judi- 
cious economy  in  the  midst  of  magnificence." 

August  9. 

I  like  Miss  Elizabeth  Hamilton  better  than  ever  upon 
further  acquaintance.  She  is  what  the  French  would 
call  bonne  a  vivre:  so  good-humored,  so  cheerful,  so 
little  disposed  to  exact  attention  or  to  take  an  authori- 
tative tone  in  conversation,  so  ready  to  give  everybody 
their  merits,  so  indulgent  for  the  follies  and  frailties, 
and  so  hopeful  of  the  reformation  of  even  the  faults  and 
vices  of  the  world,  that  it  is  impossible  not  to  respect 
and  love  her.  She  wins  upon  us  daily,  and  mixes  so 
well  with  this  family,  that  I  always  forget  she  is  a 
stranger. 

Lady  Davy  is  in  high  glory  at  this  moment,  intro- 
ducing Madame  de  Stae'l  everywhere,  enjoying  the 
triumph  and  partaking  the  gale.  They  went  down,  a 
delightful  party,  to  Cobham  —  Madame  de  Stael,  Lady 
Davy,  Lord  Erskine,  Rogers,  etc. 

Have  you  heard  that  Jeffrey,  the  reviewer,  is  gone  to 
America  in  pursuit  of  a  lady,  or,  as  some  say,  to  take 
possession  of  an  estate  left  to  him  by  an  uncle  ?  He  is  to 


232  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1813 

be  back  in  time  for  the  "Edinburgh  Review"  in  Sep- 
tember ! 

August  19. 

Lord  and  Lady  Lansdowne  came  to  us  on  Tuesday. 
Mr.  Greenough  comes  on  Saturday,  and  after  that  I 
think  we  shall  get  to  Black  Castle.  Lord  Longford 
came  yesterday,  and  though  he  is  not,  you  know,  exu- 
berant in  praise,  truly  says  Lord  and  Lady  Lansdowne 
are  people  who  must  be  esteemed  and  liked  the  more 
they  are  known. 

Mr.  Forbes,  just  returned  from  Russia,  has  this 
moment  come,  and  is  giving  a  most  interesting  account 
of  Petersburgh  and  Moscow.;  give  me  credit  for  retiring 
to  finish  this  letter.  My  father  is  calling,  calling,  call- 
ing. 

November  19. 

Last  night  a  letter  came  from  Lady  Farnham,  an- 
nouncing Francis  Fox's  marriage,  and  naming  next 
Monday  for  us  to  go  to  Farnham.  We  went  last  Mon- 
day to  a  play  at  Castle  Forbes,  or  rather  to  three  farces 
—  "Bombastes  Furioso,"  "Of  Age  To-morrow,"  and 
"The  Village  Lawyer,"  taken  from  the  famous  "Avocat 
Patelin ;  "  the  cunning  servant- boy  shamming  simplicity 
was  admirably  acted  by  Lord  Rancliffe. 

Tell  me  whether  you  have  seen  Madame  de  Stael's 
"Essai  sur  la  Fiction,"  prefixed  to  Zulma,  Adelaide, 
and  Pauline  —  the  essay  is  excellent;  I  shall  be  curious 
to  know  whether  you  think  as  I  do  of  Pauline. 
Madame  de  Stael  calls  Blenheim  "a  magnificent  tomb; 
splendor  without,  and  the  deathlike  silence  of  ennui 
within."  She  says  she  is  very  proud  of  having  made 
the  Duke  of  Marlborough  speak  four  words.  At  the 


1814]  TO  MES.   RUXTON  233 

moment  she  was  announced  he  was  distinctly  heard  to 
utter  these  words ;  "  Let  me  go  away. "  We  have  just 
got  her  "  Allemagne. "  We  have  had  great  delight  in 
Mrs.  Graham's  "India,"  —  a  charming  woman,  writing, 
speaking,  thinking,  or  feeling. 

November  25. 

A  letter  from  Lady  Komilly  —  so  easy,  so  like  her 
conversation.  All  agree  that  Madame  de  Stae'l  is  frank- 
ness itself,  and  has  an  excellent  heart.  During  her 
brilliant  fortnight  at  Bowood,  where,  besides  Madame 
de  Stae'l,  her  Albertine,  M.  de  Stae'l,  and  Count  Pal- 
mella,  there  were  the  Romillys,  the  Mackintoshes,  Mr. 
Ward,  Mr.  Rogers,  and  M.  Dumont  —  if  it  had  not 
been  for  chess-playing,  music,  and  dancing  between 
times,  poor  human  nature  never  could  have  borne  the 
strain  of  attention  and  admiration. 

January  1, 1814. 
Hunter  has  sent  a  whole  cargo  of  French  translations 

—  "Popular  Tales,"  with  a  title  under  which  I  should 
never  have  known  them,  "  Conseils  a  mon  Fils !  Manoeu- 
vring; La  Mere  Intrigante;  Ennui"  —  what  can  they 
make  of  it  in  French  ?     "  Leonora  "  will  translate  better 
than  a  better  thing.      "Emilie  de  Coulanges,"  I  fear, 
will  never  stand   alone.      "L' Absent,   The  Absentee," 

—  it  is  impossible  that  a  Parisian  can  make  any  sense 
of  it  from  beginning  to  end.      But  these  things  teach 
authors   what   is   merely  local   and   temporary.      "Les 
deux  Griseldis  de  Chaucer  et  Edgeworth ;  "  and,  to  crown 
all,  two  works  surreptitiously  printed  in  England  under 
our  name,  and  which  are  no  better  than  they  should 
be. 


234  MAKIA  EDGEWOKTH  [JAN. 

Pray  read  "Letters  to  Sir  James  Mackintosh  on 
Madame  de  StaeTs  '  Allemagne. '  "  My  mother  says  it 
is  exactly  what  you  would  have  written;  we  do  not 
know  who  is  the  author. 

January  25. 

To-day  it  began  to  thaw,  and  thawed  so  rapidly  that 
we  were  in  danger  of  being  flooded,  wet  pouring  in  at 
all  parts,  and  tubs,  and  jugs,  and  pails,  and  mops  run- 
ning about  in  all  directions,  and  voices  calling,  and 
avalanches  of  snow  thrown  by  arms  of  men  from  gutters 
and  roofs  on  all  sides,  darkening  windows,  and  falling 
with  thundering  noise. 

We  have  been  charmed  with  a  little  French  play, 
"  Les  deux  Gendres. "  I  wish  you  could  get  it,  and  get 
Mr.  Knox  to  read  it  to  you;  he  is  still  blocked  up  by 
the  snow  at  Pakenham  Hall. 

We  have  had  an  entertaining  letter,  giving  an  account 
of  a  gentleman  who  is  now  in  England,  a  native  of 
Delhi;  practiced  as  an  advocate  in  the  native  courts  of 
Calcutta,  from  Calcutta  to  Prince  of  Wales  Island,  and 
thence  to  London,  and  is  now  Professor  of  Oriental 
Languages  at  Addiscombe.  He  was  at  Dr.  Malkin's; 
Mrs.  Malkin  offered  him  coffee;  he  refused,  and  backed. 
"Not  coffee  in  the  house  of  Madam-Doctor.  I  take 
coffee  to  keep  awake;  no  danger  of  being  drowsy  in  the 
house  of  Madam-Doctor."  He  was  at  a  great  ball 
where  Lord  Cornwallis  was  expected,  and  he  said  he 
would  go  to  him  and  "bless  his  father's  memory  for  his 
conduct  in  India." 

Poor  old  Robin  Woods  is  very  ill,  and  he  has  a  tame 
robin  that  sits  on  his  foot,  and  hops  up  for  crumbs. 


1814]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  235 

One  day  that  I  went  in,  when  they  were  at  dinner  with 
a  bowl  of  potatoes  between  them,  I  said,  "How  happy 
you  two  look ! "  "  Yes,  miss,  we  were  that  every  day 
since  we  married." 


TO    MBS.    KUXTON. 

15  BAGGOT  STREET,I  DUBLIK, 
March,  1814. 

Here  we  are;  arrived  at  three  o'clock;  found  Henrica 
looking  very  well.  Such  a  nice,  pretty,  elegant  house ! 
and  they  have  furnished  it  so  comfortably.  It  is  de- 
lightful to  see  my  father  here;  he  enjoys  himself  so 
much  in  his  son's  house,  and  Sneyd  and  Henrica  are  so 
happy  seeing  him  pleased  with  everything.  Lady  Long- 
ford has  been  here  this  morning;  told  us  Sir  Edward 
Pakenham  was  so  fatigued  by  riding  an  uneasy  horse 
at  the  battle  of  Vittoria,  he  was  not  able  to  join  for 
four  days.  A  buckle  of  Lord  Wellington's  sword-belt 
saved  him;  he  wrote  four  times  in  one  week  to  Lady 
Wellington,  without  ever  mentioning  his  wound.  I 
long  for  you  to  see  Henrica;  she  is  so  kind,  and  so 
well-bred  and  easy  in  her  manners. 

In  April  Mr.  Edgeworth  had  a  dangerous  illness. 
He  was  just  out  of  danger,  when,  late  at  night  on  the 
10th  of  May,  his  son  Lovell  arrived  from  Paris,  liber- 
ated by  the  peace  after  eleven  years'  detention. 

l  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Sneyd  Edgeworth' s  house  in  Dublin. 


236  ...        MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MA* 

TO    MBS.   RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  May  16, 1814. 

My  father's  contentment  at  Lovell's1  return  has  done 
him  more  good  than  all  the  advice  of  all  the  surgeons, 
I  do  believe,  now  that  the  danger  is  over.  If  you  have 
suffered  from  suspense  in  absence,  yet,  my  dear  aunt, 
you  have  been  spared  the  torturing  terrors  we  have  felt 
at  the  sight  of  the  daily,  hourly  changes,  so  rapid,  so 
unaccountable;  one  day,  one  hour  all  hope,  the  next 
all  despair!  The  lamp  of  life,  now  bright,  starting 
up  high  and  brilliant,  then  sinking  suddenly  almost  to 
extinction;  the  flame  flitting,  flickering,  starting,  leap- 
ing, as  it  were,  on  and  off  by  fits.  Some  day  we  shall 
talk  it  over  in  security ;  now  I  can  hardly  bear  to  look 
back  to  it. 

All  that  has  passed  in  France  in  the  last  few  weeks ! 
a  revolution  without  bloodshed!  Paris  taken  without 
being  pillaged!  the  Bourbons,  after  all  hope  and  season 
for  hope  had  passed,  restored  to  their  capital  and  their 
palaces !  With  what  mixed  sensations  they  must  enter 
those  palaces!  I  dare  say  it  has  not  escaped  my  aunt 
that  the  Venus  de  Me'dicis  and  Apollo  Belvidere  are 
both  missing  together;  I  make  no  remarks.  I  hate 
scandal  —  at  least  I  am  not  so  fond  of  it  as  the  lady  of 
whom  it  was  said  she  could  not  see  the  poker  and  tongs 
standing  together  without  suspecting  something  wrong ! 
I  wonder  where  our  ideas,  especially  those  of  a  playful 
sort,  go  at  some  times;  and  how  it  is  that  they  all  come 
junketing  back  faster  than  there  is  room  for  them  at 

1  The  only  son  of  Mr.  Edgeworth's  second  marriage,  with  Miss  Hon- 
ora  Sneyd. 


1814]  TO  MRS.   EUXTON  237 

other  times.      How  is  it  that  hope  so  powerfully  ex- 
cites, and  fear  so  absolutely  depresses  all  our  faculties  ? 

August  24. 

Sneyd  has  received  a  very  polite  letter  from  the 
Marquis  de  Bonay,  who  is  now  ambassador  at  the  Court 
of  Denmark.  Mrs.  O'Beirne  and  the  Bishop,  who  like 
Mons.  de  Bonay  so  much,  and  who  have  not  heard  of 
him  for  such  a  length  of  time,  will  be  delighted  to  hear 
of  his  emerging  into  light  and  life.  What  is  more  to 
our  purpose  is,  that  he  says  he  can  furnish  Sneyd  with 
some  notes  for  the  Abbe  Edgeworth's  life,  which  he 
had  once  intended  to  write  himself;  he  did  put  a  short 
notice  of  his  life  into  the  foreign  papers  at  Mittau.  He 
says  he  never  knew  so  perfect  a  human  creature  as  the 
Abbd 

I  had  a  letter  from  Dr.  Holland  this  morning  saying 
at  the  beginning  I  should  be  surprised  at  its  contents; 
and  so  I  was.  The  Princess  of  Wales  has  invited  him 
to  accompany  her  abroad  as  her  physician !  After  con- 
sulting with  his  friends  he  accepted  the  invitation. 

TO    MRS.     RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  October  13, 1814. 

I  had  a  letter  from  the  Duchess  of  Wellington  the 
day  before  yesterday,  dated  from  Deal,  just  when  she 
was  going  to  embark  for  France.  The  whole  of  the 
letter  was  full  of  her  children  and  of  sorrow  for  quitting 
them. 

Two  days  ago  came  a  young  gentleman,  Mr.  James 
Gordon,  a  nephew  of  Lady  Elizabeth  Whitbread's,  with 
a  very  polite  introductory  note  from  Lady  Elizabeth, 


238  MARIA  EDGEWOETH  [Ocx. 

He  has  a  great  deal  of  anecdote  and  information.  He 
has  just  come  from  Paris,  and  he  has  given  me  a  better 
account  of  Paris,  and  more  characteristic,  well-authen- 
ticated anecdotes  than  I  have  heard  from  anybody  else. 
He  mentioned  some  instances  of  the  gratitude  which 
Louis  XVIII.  has  shown  to  people  of  inferior  note  in 
England  from  whom  he  had  received  kindness,  espe- 
cially to  the  innkeeper's  wife  at  Berkhampstead.  I  am 
glad  for  the  honor  of  human  nature  that  this  is  so. 

What  do  you  think  Walter  Scott  says  is  the  most 
poetical  performance  he  has  read  for  years?  That  ac- 
count of  the  battle  of  Leipsic  which  Eichard  lent  to  us. 

We  went  to  Coolure  and  had  a  pleasant  day.  "Wa- 
verley  "  was  in  everybody's  hands.  The  Admiral  does 
not  like  it;  the  hero,  he  says,  is  such  a  shuffling  fellow. 
While  he  was  saying  this  I  had  in  my  pocket  a  letter 
from  Miss  Fanshawe,  received  that  morning,  saying  it 
was  delightful.  Lady  Crewe  tells  me  that  Madame 
d'Arblay  cannot  settle  in  England  because  the  King  of 
France  has  lately  appointed  M.  d'Arblay  to  some  high 
situation  in  consequence  of  his  distinguished  services. 

Shall  I  tell  you  what  they,  my  father  and  all  of  them 
are  doing  at  this  moment?  Sprawling  on  the  floor, 
looking  at  a  new  rat-trap.  Two  pounds  of  butter  van- 
ished the  other  night  out  of  the  dairy;  they  had  been 
put  in  a  shallow  pan  with  water  in  it,  and  it  is  averred 
the  rats  ate  it,  and  Peggy  Tuite,  the  dairymaid,  to 
make  the  thing  more  credible,  gives  the  following  reason 
for  the  rats'  conduct.  "Troth,  ma'am,  they  were 
affronted  at  the  new  rat-trap,  they  only  licked  the  milk 
off  it,  and  that  occasioned  them  to  run  off  with  the 
butter!" 


1814]  TO   THE   AUTHOR   OF  "  WAVERLEY  "  239 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pollard  have  spent  a  day  here,  and 
brought  with  them  Miss  Napier.  My  father  is  charmed 
with  her  beauty,  her  voice,  and  her  manners.  We 
talked  over  "  Waverley "  with  her.  I  am  more  de- 
lighted with  it  than  I  can  tell  you;  it  is  a  work  of  first- 
rate  genius. 

TO    THE    AUTHOR    OF    "  WAVERLEY." 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  October  23, 1814. 
Aut  Scotus,  out  Diabolic. 

We  have  this  moment  finished  "Waverley."  It  was 
read  aloud  to  this  large  family,  and  I  wish  the  author 
could  have  witnessed  the  impression  it  made  —  the 
strong  hold  it  seized  of  the  feelings  both  of  young  and 
old  —  the  admiration  raised  by  the  beautiful  descriptions 
of  nature  —  by  the  new  and  bold  delineations  of  charac- 
ter —  the  perfect  manner  in  which  every  character  is  sus- 
tained in  every  change  of  situation  from  first  to  last, 
without  effort,  without  the  affectation  of  making  the 
persons  speak  in  character  —  the  ingenuity  with  which 
each  person  introduced  in  the  drama  is  made  useful  and 
necessary  to  the  end  —  the  admirable  art  with  which 
the  story  is  constructed  and  with  which  the  author 
keeps  his  own  secrets  till  the  proper  moment  when  they 
should  be  revealed,  whilst  in  the  mean  time,  with  the 
skill  of  Shakespeare,  the  mind  is  prepared  by  unseen 
degrees  for  all  the  changes  of  feeling  and  fortune,  so 
that  nothing,  however  extraordinary,  shocks  us  as  im- 
probable; and  the  interest  is  kept  up  to  the  last  mo- 
ment. We  were  so  possessed  with  the  belief  that  the 
whole  story  and  every  character  in  it  was  real,  that  we 
could  not  endure  the  occasional  addresses  from  the 


240  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [0CT- 

author  to  the  reader.  They  are  like  Fielding;  but  for 
that  reason  we  cannot  bear  them,  we  cannot  bear  that 
an  author  of  such  high  powers,  of  such  original  genius, 
should  for  a  moment  stoop  to  imitation.  This  is  the 
only  thing  we  dislike,  these  are  the  only  passages  we 
wish  omitted  in  the  whole  work;  and  let  the  unquali- 
fied manner  in  which  I  say  this,  and  the  very  vehe- 
mence of  my  expression  of  this  disapprobation,  be  a 
sure  pledge  to  the  author  of  the  sincerity  of  all  the 
admiration  I  feel  for  his  genius. 

I  have  not  yet  said  half  we  felt  in  reading  the  work. 
The  characters  are  not  only  finely  drawn  as  separate 
figures,  but  they  are  grouped  with  great  skill,  and  con- 
trasted so  artfully,  and  yet  so  naturally,  as  to  produce 
the  happiest  dramatic  effect,  and  at  the  same  time  to 
relieve  the  feelings  and  attention  in  the  most  agreeable 
manner.  The  novelty  of  the  Highland  world  which  is 
discovered  to  our  view  excites  curiosity  and  interest 
powerfully;  but  though  it  is  all  new  to  us  it  does  not 
embarrass  or  perplex,  or  strain  the  attention.  We 
never  are  harassed  by  doubts  of  the  probability  of  any 
of  these  modes  of  life;  though  we  did  not  know  them, 
we  are  quite  certain  they  did  exist  exactly  as  they  are 
represented.  We  are  sensible  that  there  is  a  peculiar 
merit  in  the  work  which  is  in  a  measure  lost  upon  us, 
the  dialects  of  the  Highlanders  and  the  Lowlanders, 
etc.  But  there  is  another  and  a  higher  merit  with 
which  we  are  as  much  struck  and  as  much  delighted  as 
any  true  born  Scotchman  could  be;  the  various  grada- 
tions of  Scotch  feudal  character,  from  the  high-born 
chieftain  and  the  military  baron,  to  the  noble-minded 
lieutenant  Evan  Dhu,  the  robber  Bean  Lean,  and  the 


1814]  TO  THE   AUTHOR   OF  "  WAVEELEY  "  241 

savage  Callum  Beg.  The  Pre —  the  Chevalier  is  beau- 
tifully drawn  — 

"A  prince  :  aye,  every  inch  a  prince!  " 

His  polished  manners,  his  exquisite  address,  politeness 
and  generosity,  interest  the  reader  irresistibly,  and  he 
pleases  the  more  from  the  contrast  between  him  and 
those  who  surround  him.  I  think  he  is  my  favorite 
character;  the  Baron  Brad  war  dine  is  my  father's.  He 
thinks  it  required  more  genius  to  invent,  and  more 
ability  uniformly  to  sustain  this  character  than  any  one 
of  the  masterly  characters  with  which  the  book  abounds. 
There  is  indeed  uncommon  art  in  the  manner  in  which 
his  dignity  is  preserved  by  his  courage  and  magnan- 
imity, in  spite  of  all  his  pedantry  and  his  ridicules,  and 
his  bear  and  bootjack,  and  all  the  raillery  of  Maclvor. 
Maclvor's  unexpected  "bear  and  bootjack"  made  us 
laugh  heartily. 

But  to  return  to  the  dear  good  baron;  though  I  ac- 
knowledge that  I  am  not  as  good  a  judge  as  my  father 
and  brothers  are  of  his  recondite  learning  and  his  law 
Latin,  yet  I  feel  the  humor,  and  was  touched  to  the 
quick  by  the  strokes  of  generosity,  gentleness,  and 
pathos  in  this  old  man,  who  is,  by  the  bye,  all  in  good 
time  worked  up  ^into  a  very  dignified  father-in-law  for 
the  hero.  His  exclamation  of  "Oh!  my  son!  my 
son !  "  and  the  yielding  of  the  fictitious  character  of  the 
baron  to  the  natural  feelings  of  the  father  is  beautiful. 
(Evan  Dhu's  fear  that  his  father-in-law  should  die 
quietly  in  his  bed,  made  us  laugh  almost  as  much  as 
the  bear  and  bootjack.) 

Jinker,  in  the  battle,  pleading  the  cause  of  the  mare 
he  had  sold  to  Balmawhapple,  and  which  had  thrown 


242  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [Ocr. 

him  for  want  of  the  proper  hit,  is  truly  comic;  my 
father  says  that  this  and  some  other  passages  respecting 
horsemanship  could  not  have  heen  written  hy  any  one 
who  was  not  master  both  of  the  great  and  little  horse. 

I  tell  you  without  order  the  great  and  little  strokes 
of  humor  and  pathos  just  as  I  recollect,  or  am  reminded 
of  them  at  this  moment  by  my  companions.  The  fact 
is  that  we  have  had  the  volumes  only  during  the  time 
we  could  read  them,  and  as  fast  as  we  could  read,  lent 
to  us  as  a  great  favor  by  one  who  was  happy  enough  to 
have  secured  a  copy  before  the  first  and  second  editions 
were  sold  in  Dublin.  When  we  applied,  not  a  copy 
could  be  had;  we  expect  one  in  the  course  of  next 
week,  but  we  resolved  to  write  to  the  author  without 
waiting  for  a  second  perusal.  Judging  by  our  own 
feeling  as  authors,  we  guess  that  he  would  rather  know 
our  genuine  first  thoughts,  than  wait  for  cool  second 
thoughts,  or  have  a  regular  eulogium  or  criticism  put  in 
the  most  lucid  manner,  and  given  in  the  finest  sentences 
that  ever  were  rounded. 

Is  it  possible  that  I  have  got  thus  far  without  having 
named  Flora  or  Vich  Ian  Vohr  —  the  last  Vich  Ian 
Vohr !  Yet  our  minds  were  full  of  them  the  moment 
before  I  began  this  letter;  and  could  you  have  seen  the 
tears  forced  from  us  by  their  fate,  you  would  have  been 
satisfied  that  the  pathos  went  to  our  hearts.  Ian  Vohr 
from  the  first  moment  he  appears,  till  the  last,  is  an  ad- 
mirably drawn  and  finely  sustained  character  —  new, 
perfectly  new  to  the  English  reader  —  often  entertaining 
—  always  heroic  —  sometimes  sublime.  The  gray  spirit, 
the  Bodach  Glas,  thrills  us  with  horror.  Us  !  What 
effect  must  it  have  upon  those  under  the  influence  of 


1814]  TO  THE  AUTHOR   OF  '' WAVERLEY"  243 

the  superstitions  of  the  Highlands  ?  This  circumstance 
is  admirably  introduced;  this  superstition  is  a  weakness 
quite  consistent  with  the  strength  of  the  character,  per- 
fectly natural  after  the  disappointment  of  all  his  hopes, 
in  the  dejection  of  his  mind,  and  the  exhaustion  of  his 
bodily  strength. 

Flora  we  could  wish  was  never  called  Miss  Maclvor, 
because  in  this  country  there  are  tribes  of  vulgar  Miss 
Macs,  and  this  association  is  unfavorable  to  the  sublime 
and  beautiful  of  your  Mora  —  she  is  a  true  heroine. 
Her  first  appearance  seized  upon  the  mind  and  enchanted 
us  so  completely,  that  we  were  certain  she  was  to  be 
your  heroine,  and  the  wife  of  your  hero  —  but  with 
what  inimitable  art  you  gradually  convince  the  reader 
that  she  was  not,  as  she  said  of  herself,  capable  of 
making  Waverley  happy ;  leaving  her  in  full  posses- 
sion of  our  admiration,  you  first  make  us  pity,  then 
love,  and  at  last  give  our  undivided  affection  to  Rose 
Bradwardine  —  sweet  Scotch  Eose !  The  last  scene  be- 
tween Flora  and  Waverley  is  highly  pathetic  —  my 
brother  wishes  that  bridal  garment  were  shroud ;  be- 
cause when  the  heart  is  touched  we  seldom  use  meta- 
phor, or  quaint  alliteration;  bride-favor,  bridal  garment. 

There  is  one  thing  more  we  could  wish  changed  or 
omitted  in  Flora's  character.  I  have  not  the  volume, 
and  therefore  cannot  refer  to  the  page;  but  I  recollect 
in  the  first  visit  to  Flora,  when  she  is  to  sing  certain 
verses,  there  is  a  walk,  in  which  the  description  of  the 
place  is  beautiful,  but  too  long,  and  we  did  not  like  the 
preparation  for  a  scene  —  the  appearance  of  Flora  and 
her  harp  was  too  like  a  common  heroine,  she  should  be 
far  above  all  stage  effect  or  novelist's  trick. 


244  MARIA   EDGEWORTH  [1814 

These  are,  without  reserve,  the  only  faults  we  found 
or  can  find  in  this  work  of  genius.  We  should  scarcely 
have  thought  them  worth  mentioning,  except  to  give 
you  proof  positive  that  we  are  not  flatterers.  Believe 
me,  I  have  not,  nor  can  I  convey  to  you  the  full  idea 
of  the  pleasure,  the  delight  we  have  had  in  reading 
"Waverley,"  nor  of  the  feeling  of  sorrow  with  which 
we  came  to  the  end  of  the  history  of  persons  whose  real 
presence  had  so  filled  our  minds  —  we  felt  that  we  must 
return  to  the  flat  realities  of  life,  that  our  stimulus  was 
gone,  and  we  were  little  disposed  to  read  the  "Post- 
script, which  should  have  been  a  Preface." 

"Well,  let  us  hear  it,"  said  my  father,  and  Mrs. 
Edgeworth  read  on. 

Oh!  my  dear  sir,  how  much  pleasure  would  my 
father,  my  mother,  my  whole  family,  as  well  as  myself 
have  lost,  if  we  had  not  read  to  the  last  page !  And 
the  pleasure  came  upon  us  so  unexpectedly  —  we  had 
been  so  completely  absorbed  that  every  thought  of  our- 
selves, of  'our  own  authorship,  was  far,  far  away. 

Thank  you  for  the  honor  you  have  done  us,  and  for 
the  pleasure  you  have  given  us,  great  in  proportion  to 
the  opinion  we  had  formed  of  the  work  we  had  just 
perused  —  and  believe  me,  every  opinion  I  have  in  this 
letter  expressed  was  formed  before  any  individual  in 
the  family  had  peeped  to  the  end  of  the  book,  or  knew 
how  much  we  owed  you. 

Your  obliged  and  grateful 

MARIA  EDGEWOBTH. 


1815]  TO   MISS   RUXTON  245 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  December  26, 1814. 
"A  Merry  Christmas  and  a  Happy  New  Year"  to 
you,  my  dear  Sophy,  and  to  my  aunt,  and  uncle,  and 
Margaret.  I  have  just  risen  from  my  bed,  where  I  had 
been  a  day  and  a  half  with  a  violent  headache  and 
pains,  or,  as  John  Langan  calls  them,  pins  in  my  bones. 
We  have  been  much  entertained  with  "Mansfield 
Park."  Pray  read  "Eugene  et  Guillaume,"  a  modern 
"Gil  Bias;"  too  much  of  opera  intrigues,  but  on  the 
whole  it  is  a  work  of  admirable  ability.  Guillaume 's 
character  beautiful,  and  the  gradual  deterioration  of 
Eugene's  character  finely  drawn;  but  the  following  it 
out  becomes  at  last  as  disgusting  and  horrible  as  it 
would  be  to  see  the  corruption  of  the  body  after  the 
spirit  had  fled. 

January,  1815. 

I  send  you  some  beautiful  lines  to  Lord  Byron,  by 
Miss  Macpherson,  daughter  of  Sir  James  Macpherson. 
As  soon  as  my  father  hears  from  the  Dublin  Society  we 
shall  go  to  Dublin. 

TO  THE  SAME. 

15  BAGGOT  STREET,  DUBLIN, 
February,  1815. 

Our  time  here  has  been  much  more  agreeably  spent 
than  I  had  any  hopes  it  would  be.  My  father  has  been 
pleased  at  some  dinners  at  Mr.  Knox's,  Mr.  Leslie 
Foster's,  and  at  the  Solicitor-General's.  Mrs.  Stewart 
is  admirable,  and  Caroline  Hamilton  the  most  entertain- 
ing and  agreeable  good  person  I  ever  saw;  she  is  as 


246  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAT 

good  as  any  saint,   and  as  gay,   and  much  gayer,  than 
any  sinner  I  ever  happened  to  see,  male  or  female. 

The  Beauforts  are  at  Mrs.  Waller's;  they  came  up  in 
a  hurry,  summoned  by  a  Mrs.  Codd,  an  American,  or 
from  America,  who  has  come  over  to  claim  a  consider- 
able property,  and  wants  to  be  identified.  She  went  a 
journey  when  she  was  thirteen,  with  Doctor  and  Mrs. 
Beaufort  and  my  mother,  and  they  are  the  only  people 
in  this  country  who  can  and  will  swear  to  her  and  for 
her.  I  will  tell  you  when  we  meet  of  her  entree  with 
Sir  Simon  Bradstreet,  — and  I  will  tell  you  of  Honora's 
treading  on  the  parrot  at  Mrs.  Westby's  party, — and 
I  will  tell  you  of  Fenaigle  and  his  ABC.  I  think 
him  very  stupid.  Heaven  grant  me  the  power  of  for- 
getting his  Art  of  Memory. 

TO    C.    8.    EDGEWOKTH. 

BLACK  CASTLE,  May  10, 1815. 

We,  that  is,  my  father,  mother,  little  Harriet,  and  I, 
went  on  Sunday  last  to  Castletown  —  the  two  days  we 
spent  there,  delightful.  Lady  Louisa  Connolly  is  one 
of  the  most  respectable,  amiable,  and  even  at  seventy, 
I  may  say,  charming  persons  I  ever  saw  or  heard. 
Having  known  all  the  most  worthy,  as  well  as  the  most 
celebrated  people  who  have  lived  for  the  last  fifty  years, 
she  is  full  of  characteristic  anecdote,  and  fuller  of  that 
indulgence  for  human  creatures  which  is  consistent  with 
a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  world,  and  a  quick  percep- 
tion of  all  the  foibles  of  human  nature  —  with  a  high 
sense  of  religion,  without  the  slightest  tincture  of 
ostentation,  asperity,  or  bigotry.  She  is  all  that  I 
could  have  wished  to  represent  in  Mrs.  Hungerford, 


1815]  TO  MISS   KUXTON  247 

and  her  figure  and  countenance  gave  me  back  the  image 
in  my  mind. 

Her  niece,  Miss  Emily  Napier,  is  graceful,  amiable, 
and  very  engaging. 

My  father  went  home  with  Harriet  direct  from  Cas- 
tletown,  but  begged  my  mother  and  me  to  return  to 
Dublin  for  a  fancy  ball.  We  did  not  go  to  the  Ro- 
tunda, but  saw  enough  of  it  at  Mrs.  Power's.  Lady 
Clarke  (Lady  Morgan's  sister),  as  "Mrs.  Flannigan,  a 
half  gentlewoman,  from  Tipperary,"  speaking  an  admir- 
able brogue,  was  by  far  the  best  character,  and  she  had 
presence  of  mind  and  a  great  deal  of  real  humor  —  her 
husband  attending  her  with  kitten  and  macaw. 

Next  to  her  Mr.  Robert  Langrishe,  as  a  French- 
woman, admirably  dressed.  Mrs.  Airey  was  a  Turkish 
lady,  in  a  superb  dress,  given  to  her  by  Ali  Pasha. 
There  were  thatched  "Wild  Men  from  the  North," 
dancing  and  stamping  with  whips  and  clumping  of  the 
feet,  from  which  Mrs.  Bushe  and  I  fled  whenever  they 
came  near  us.  Having  named  Mrs.  Bushe,  I  must 
mention  that  whenever  I  have  met  her,  she  has  been 
my  delight  and  admiration  from  her  wit,  humor,  and 
variety  of  conversation. 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

EDGEWOKTHSTOWN,  August,  1815. 

I  send  a  note  from  Lady  Romilly,  and  one  from  Mr. 
Whishaw;  the  four  travelers  mentioned  in  that  note 
called  upon  us  yesterday,  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Smith,  of 
Easton  Grey,  Miss  Bayley,  and  Mr.  Fuller.  Mrs. 
Smith  is  stepdaughter  to  a  certain  Mrs.  Chandler,  who 
was  very  kind  to  me  at  Mrs.  Day's,  and  I  was  heartily 


248  •  MARIA   EDGEWORTH  [1815 

glad  to  see  her  daughter,  even  stepdaughter,  at  Edge- 
worthstown,  and  my  kind,  dear,  best  of  stepmothers, 
seconded  my  intentions  to  my  very  heart's  wish;  I  am 
sure  they  went  away  satisfied.  I  gave  them  a  note  to 
Lady  Farnham,  which  will,  I  think,  produce  a  note  of 
admiration!  While  these  visitors  were  with  us  Mrs. 
Moutray  came  over  from  Lissard,  and  we  rejoiced  in 
pride  of  soul  to  show  them  our  Irish  Madame  de 
Se'vignd.  Her  Madame  de  Grignan  is  more  agreeable 
than  ever.  Mrs.  Moutray  told  me  of  a  curious  debate 
she  heard  between  Lady  C.  Campbell,  Lady  Glenbervie, 
and  others,  on  the  Modern  Griselda,  with  another  lady, 
and  a  wager  laid  that  she  would  not  read  it  out  to  her 
husband.  Wager  lost  by  skipping. 

TO    MRS.    KUXTON. 

October  16. 

I  send  you  a  letter  of  Joanna  Baillie's;  her  simple 
style  is  so  different  from  the  fine  or  the  gossip  style. 

Did  you  ever  hear  this  epigram,  a  translation  from 
Martial? 

"  Their  utmost  power  the  gods  have  shown, 
In  turning  Niobe  to  stone  : 
But  man's  superior  power  you  see, 
Who  turns  a  stone  to  Niobe." 

Here  is  an  epigram  quite  to  my  taste,  elegant  and 
witty,  without  ill-nature  or  satire. 

Barry  Fox  has  come  home  with  his  regiment,  and  is 
very  gentleman-like. 

Captain  Fox  had  been  serving  in  Canada,  when  on 
Buonaparte's  return  from  Elba  his  regiment,  the  97th, 
was  summoned  home,  but  when  the  transport  entered 


1816]  TO   MRS.   RUXTON  249 

Plymouth  harbor,  and  the  officers  were  told  that  Buona- 
parte was  in  the  vessel  they  had  just  sailed  past,  they 
thought  it  an  absurd  jest. 

January  10, 1816. 

The  authoress  of  "  Pride  and  Prejudice  "  has  been  so 
good  as  to  send  to  me  a  new  novel  just  published, 
"Emma."  We  are  reading  "France  in  1814 and  1815," 
by  young  Alison  and  Mr.  Tytler;  the  first  volume  good. 
We  are  also  reading  a  book  which  delights  us  all, 
though  it  is  on  a  subject  which  you  will  think  very  little 
likely  to  be  interesting  to  us,  and  on  which  we  had 
little  or  no  previous  knowledge.  I  bought  it  on  Mr. 
Brinkley's  recommendation,  and  have  not  repented  — 
Cuvier's  "Theory  of  the  Earth."  It  is  admirably  writ- 
ten, with  such  perfect  clearness  as  to  be  intelligible  to 
the  meanest,  and  satisfactory  to  the  highest  capacity. 

I  have  enlarged  my  plan  of  plays,  which  are  not  now 
to  be  for  young  people  merely,  but  rather  "Popular 
Plays,"1  for  the  same  class  as  "Popular  Tales."  Ex- 
cuse huddling  things  together.  Mrs.  O'Beirne,  of 
Newry,  who  has  been  here,  told  us  a  curious  story.  A 
man  near  Granard  robbed  a  farmer  of  thirty  guineas, 
and  hid  them  in  a  hole  in  the  church  wall.  He  was 
hurried  out  of  the  country  by  some  accident  before  he 
could  take  off  his  treasure,  and  wrote  to  the  man  he  had 
robbed  and  told  him  where  he  had  hid  the  money: 
"Since  it  can  be  of  no  use  to  me  you  may  as  well  have 
it."  The  owner  of  the  money  set  to  work  grouting 
under  the  church  wall,  and  many  of  the  good  people  of 
Granard  were  seized  with  Mr.  Hill's  fear  there  was  a 
i  Published  in  1817,  in  one  volume,  containing  Love  and  Law. 


250  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

plot  to  undermine  the  church,  and  a  great  piece  of  work 
about  it. 

March  21. 

I  send  a  letter  of  Mrs.  O'Beirne's,  telling  of  Arch- 
deacon de  Lacy's l  marrying  Madame  de  Stael's  daugh- 
ter to  the  Due  de  Broglie!  My  father  is  pretty  well 
to-day,  and  has  been  looking  at  a  fine  bed  of  crocuses 
in  full  blow  in  my  garden,  and  is  now  gone  out  in  the 
carriage,  and  I  must  have  a  scene  ready  for  him  on  his 
return. 

I  have  been  ever  since  you  were  here  mending  up 
the  little  plays;  cobbling  work,  which  takes  a  great 
deal  of  time,  and  makes  no  show. 

It  was  in  January,  1816,  that  Maria  Edgeworth  re- 
ceived a  letter  from  Miss  Rachel  Mordecai,  of  Rich- 
mond, Virginia,  gently  reproaching  her  with  having  so 
often  made  Jews  ridiculous  in  her  writings,  and  asking 
her  to  give  a  story  with  a  good  Jew.  This  was  the 
origin  of  "Harrington,"  and  the  commencement  of  a 
correspondence  with  Miss  Mordecai,  and  of  a  friendship 
with  her  family. 

July  24. 

Mr.  Strutt  and  his  son  have  within  these  few  minutes 
arrived  here.  He  wrote  only  yesterday  to  say  that 
being  at  Liverpool,  he  would  not  be  so  near  Ireland 
without  going  to  Edgeworthstown ;  I  hope  my  father 
may  be  able  to  enjoy  their  company,  but  he  was  very 
ill  all  last  night  and  this  morning. 

1  It  happened  that  when  Albertine  de  Stael  was  to  be  married  to  M. 
de  Broglie,  at  Florence,  the  only  Protestant  clergyman  to  be  had  was 
our  fellow-counttyman,  Archdeacon  de  Lacy,  son-in-law  to  Mrs.  Mou- 
tray,  the  friend  of  Nelson  and  Collingwood. 


1816]  TO  MRS.  KUXTON  251 

August  25. 

I  lose  not  a  moment,  my  dearest  aunt,  in  communi- 
cating to  you  a  piece  of  intelligence  which  I  am  sure 
will  give  you  pleasure;  Lord  Longford  is  going  to  be 
married  —  to  Lady  Georgiana  Lygon,  daughter  of  Lord 
Beauchamp.  You  will  be  glad  to  see  the  letter  Lord 
Longford  wrote  upon  the  occasion. 

Everybody  is  writing  and  talking  about  Lord  Byron, 
but  I  am  tired  of  the  subject.  The  all  for  murder, 
all  for  crime  system  of  poetry  will  now  go  out  of  fash- 
ion; as  long  as  he  appeared  an  outrageous  mad  villain 
he  might  have  ridden  triumphant  on  the  storm,  but  he 
has  now  shown  himself  too  base,  too  mean,  too  con- 
temptible for  anything  like  an  heroic  devil.  Pray,  if 
you  have  an  opportunity,  read  Haygarth's  poem  of 
"Greece."  I  like  it  much;  I  like  the  mind  that  pro- 
duced it,  —  the  poetry  is  not  always  good,  but  there  is 
a  spirit  through  the  whole  that  sustains  it  and  that 
elevates  and  invigorates  the  mind  of  the  reader. 

September  18. 

You  know,  my  dear  aunt,  it  is  a  favorite  opinion  of 
my  father's  that  things  come  in  bundles  ;  that  people 
come  in  bundles  is,  I  think,  true,  as,  after  having  lived 
without  seeing  a  creature  but  our  own  family  for 
months,  a  press  of  company  comes  all  at  once.  The 
very  day  after  the  Brinkleys  had  come  to  us,  and  filled 
every  nook  in  the  house,  the  inclosed  letter  was  brought 
to  me.  I  was  in  my  own  little  den,  just  beginning  to 
write  for  an  hour,  as  my  father  had  requested  I  would, 
"let  who  would  be  in  the  house."  On  opening  the 


252  MARIA   EDGEWOKTH  [SEPT. 

letter  and  seeing  the  signature  of  Ward,  I  was  in  hopes 
it  was  the  Mr.  Ward  who  made  the  fine  speech  and 
wrote  the  review  of  "Patronage"  in  the  "Quarterly," 
and  of  whom  Madame  de  Stae'l  said  that  he  was  the 
only  man  in  England  who  really  understood  the  art  of 
conversation.  However,  upon  reexamining  the  signa- 
ture, I  found  that  our  gentleman  who  was  waiting  at 
the  gate  for  an  answer  was  another  Ward,  who  is  called 
"the  great  E.  Ward,"  —  a  very  gentleman-like,  agreeable 
man,  full  of  anecdotes,  hon  mots,  and  compliments.  I 
wish  you  had  been  here,  for  I  think  you  would  have 
been  entertained  much,  not  only  by  his  conversation, 
but  by  his  character;  I  never  saw  a  man  who  had  lived 
in  the  world  so  anxious  about  the  opinions  which  are 
formed  of  him  by  those  with  whom  he  is  conversing, 
so  quick  at  discovering,  by  the  countenance  and  by  im- 
plication, what  is  thought  of  him,  or  so  incessantly 
alert  in  guarding  all  the  suspected  places  in  your  opin- 
ion. He  disclaimed  memory,  though  he  has  certainly 
the  very  best  of  memories  for  wit  and  bon  mots  that 
man  was  ever  blessed  with.  Mr.  Ward  was  Under-Sec- 
retary  of  State  during  a  great  part  of  Pitt's  administra- 
tion, and  has  been  one  of  the  Lords  of  the  Admiralty, 
and  is  now  Clerk  of  the  Ordnance,  and  has  been  sent  to 
Ireland  to  reform  abuses  in  the  Ordnance.  He  speaks 
well,  and  in  agreeable  voice.  He  told  me  that  he  had 
heard  in  London  that  I  had  a  sort  of  Memoria  Technica, 
by  which  I  could  remember  everything  that  was  said  in 
conversation,  and  by  certain  motions  of  my  fingers  could, 
while  people  were  talking  to  me,  note  down  all  the  ridic- 
ulous points ! !  He  happened  to  have  passed  some  time 


1816]  TO   MRS.    RUXTON  253 

in  his  early  life  at  Lichfield,  and  knew  Miss  Seward 
and  Dr.  Darwin,  and  various  people  my  father  and  aunts 
knew;  so  this  added  to  his  power  of  making  himself 
agreeable.  Of  all  the  multitude  of  good  things  he  told 
us,  I  can  only  at  this  moment  recollect  the  lines  which 
he  repeated,  by  Dr.  Mansel,  the  Bishop  of  Bristol,  on 
Miss  Seward  and  Mr.  Hay  ley's  flattery  of  each  other:  — 

"  Prince  of  poets,  England's  glory, 

Mr.  Hayley,  that  is  you  !  " 
"  Ma'am,  you  carry  all  before  you, 

Lichfield  Swan,  indeed  you  do ! " 
"  In  epic,  elegy,  or  sonnet, 

Mr.  Hayley,  you  're  divine  ! " 
"  Madam,  take  my  word  upon  it, 

You  j'ourself  are  all  the  Nine." 

Some  of  his  stories  at  dinner  were  so  entertaining, 
that  even  old  George's  face  cut  in  wood  could  not  stand 
it;  and  John  Bristow  and  the  others  were  so  bewil- 
dered, I  thought  the  second  course  would  never  be  on 
the  table. 

November  18. 

We  are  reading  one  of  the  most  entertaining  and 
interesting  and  NEW  books  I  ever  read  in  my  life  — 
Tiilly's  "Kesidence  in  Tripoli,"  written  by  the  sister 
of  the  consul,  who  resided  there  for  ten  years,  spoke 
the  language,  and  was  admitted  to  a  constant  intercourse 
with  the  ladies  of  the  seraglio,  who  are  very  different 
from  any  seraglio  ladies  we  ever  before  heard  of.  No 
Arabian  tale  is  equal  in  magnificence  and  entertainment; 
no  tragedy  superior  in  strength  of  interest  to  the  tragedy 
recorded  in  the  last  ten  pages  of  this  incomparable  book. 
Some  people  affect  to  disbelieve,  and  say  it  is  manufac- 


254  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [JAN. 

tured;  but  it  would  be  a  miracle  that  it  was  invented 
with  such  consistency. 

January,  1817. 

Mr.  Knox  has  come  and  gone ;  two  of  the  plays  were 
read  to  him.  My  father  gave  him  a  sketch  of  each, 
and  desired  him  to  choose ;  he  chose  the  genteel  comedy, 
"The  Two  Guardians,"  and  I  read  it;  and  those  who 
sat  by  told  me  afterwards  that  Mr.  Knox's  countenance 
showed  he  was  much  amused,  and  that  he  had  great 
sympathy.  For  my  part,  I  had  a  glaze  before  my  eyes, 
and  never  once  saw  him  while  I  was  reading.  He  made 
some  good  criticisms,  and  in  consequence  I  altered  one 
scene,  and  dragged  out  Arthur  Onslow  by  the  head  and 
heels  —  the  good  boy  of  the  piece;  and  we  found  he 
was  never  missed,  but  the  whole  much  lightened  by 
throwing  this  heavy  character  overboard.  Next  night 
"The  Rose,  Thistle,  and  Shamrock;"  Mr.  Knox 
laughed,  and  seemed  to  enjoy  it  much. 

Mr.  Edgeworth  was  now  failing  rapidly,  though  as 
much  interested  as  ever  in  all  that  was  going  on  around. 
"How  I  do  enjoy  my  existence!"  he  often  exclaimed. 
His  daughter,  however,  says  that  "he  did  not  for  his 
own  sake  desire  length  of  life;  he  only  prayed  that  his 
mind  might  not  decay  before  his  body,"  and  it  did  not; 
his  mental  powers  were  as  bright  and  vigorous  as  ever 
to  the  last. 

On  the  16th  of  February  Maria  Edgeworth  read  out 
to  her  father  the  first  chapter  of  "  Ormond  "  in  the  car- 
riage, going  to  Pakenham  Hall  to  see  Lord  Longford's 
bride.  It  was  the  last  visit  that  Mr.  Edgeworth  paid 


1817]  TO  MISS   RUXTON  255 

anywhere.  He  had  expressed  a  wish  to  his  daughter 
that  she  should  write  a  story  as  a  companion  to  "Har- 
rington," and  in  all  her  anguish  of  mind  at  his  state  of 
health,  •  she,  by  a  remarkable  effort  of  affection  and 
genius,  produced  those  gay  and  brilliant  pages  —  some 
of  the  gayest  and  most  brilliant  she  ever  composed. 
The  interest  and  delight  which  her  father,  ill  as  he  was, 
took  in  this  beginning,  encouraged  her  to  go  on,  and 
she  completed  the  story.  "Harrington,"  written  as  an 
apology  for  the  Jews,  had  dragged  with  her  as  she 
wrote  it,  and  it  dragged  with  the  public.  But  in 
"  Ormond "  she  was  on  Irish  ground,  where  she  was 
always  at  her  very  best.  Yet  the  characters  of  King 
Corny  and  Sir  Ulick  0' Shane,  and  the  many  scenes  full 
of  wit,  humor,  and  feeling,  were  written  in  agony  of 
anxiety,  with  trembling  hand  and  tearful  eyes.  As  she 
finished  chapter  after  chapter,  she  read  them  out  —  the 
whole  family  assembling  in  her  father's  room  to  listen 
to  them.  Her  father  enjoyed  these  readings  so  exceed- 
ingly, that  she  was  amply  rewarded  for  the  efforts  she 
made. 

MARIA    TO    MISS    RITXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  May  31, 1817. 

This  day,  so  anxiously  expected,  has  arrived  —  the 
only  birthday  of  my  father's  for  many,  many  years 
which  has  not  brought  unmixed  feelings  of  pleasure. 
He  had  had  a  terrible  night,  but  when  I  went  into  his 
room  and  stood  at  the  foot  of  his  bed,  his  voice  was 
strong  and  cheerful,  as  usual.  I  put  into  his  hand  the 
hundred  and  sixty  printed  pages  of  "  Ormond "  which 
kind-hearted  Hunter  had  successfully  managed  to  get 


256  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [MAY 

ready  for  this  day.  How  my  dear  father  can,  in  the 
midst  of  such  sufferings,  and  in  such  an  exhausted  state 
of  body,  take  so  much  pleasure  in  such  things,  is  aston- 
ishing. Oh,  my  dear  Sophy,  what  must  be  the  fund 
of  warm  affection  from  which  this  springs !  and  what 
infinite,  exquisite  pleasure  to  me!  "Call  Sneyd  di- 
rectly," he  said,  and  swallowed  some  stirabout,  and 
said  he  felt  renovated.  Sneyd  was  seated  at  the  foot 
of  his  bed.  "Now,  Maria,  dip  anywhere,  read  on."  I 
began;  "King  Corny  recovered."  Then  he  said,  "I 
must  tell  Sneyd  the  story  up  to  this." 

And  most  eloquently,  most  beautifully  did  he  tell  the 
story.  No  mortal  could  ever  have  guessed  that  he  was 
an  invalid  if  they  had  only  heard  him  speak. 

Just  as  I  had  here  stopped  writing  my  father  came 
out  of  his  room,  looking  wretchedly,  but  ordered  the 
carriage,  and  said  he  would  go  to  Longford  to  see  Mr. 
Fallon  about  materials  for  William's  bridge.  He  took 
with  him  his  three  sons,  and  "  Maria  to  read  '  Ormond, ' ' 
—  great  delight  to  me.  He  was  much  pleased,  and  this 
wonderful  father  of  mine  drove  all  the  way  to  Longford ; 
forced  our  way  through  the  tumult  of  the  most  crowded 
market  I  ever  saw  —  his  voice  heard  clear  all  the  way 
down  the  street  —  stayed  half  an  hour  in  the  carriage 
on  the  bridge  talking  to  Mr.  Fallon;  and  we  were  not 
home  till  half-past  six.  He  could  not  dine  with  us, 
but  after  dinner  he  sent  for  us  all  into  the  library.  He 
sat  in  the  armchair  by  the  fire;  my  mother  in  the 
opposite  armchair,  Pakenham  in  the  chair  behind  her, 
Francis  on  a  stool  at  her  feet,  Maria  beside  them; 
William  next,  Lucy,  Sneyd;  on  the  sofa  opposite  the 
fire,  as  when  you  were  here,  Honora,  Fanny,  Harriet, 


1817]  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  257 

and  Sophy;  my  aunts  next  to  my  father,  and  Lovell 
between  them  and  the  sofa.  He  was  much  pleased  at 
Lovell  and  Sneyd's  coming  down  for  this  day. 

Mr.  Edgeworth  died  on  the  13th  of  June,  in  his 
seventy-second  year.  He  had  been  —  by  his  different 
wives  —  the  father  of  twenty-one  children,  of  whom 
thirteen  survived  him.  The  only  son  of  his  second 
marriage,  Lovell  Edgeworth,  succeeded  to  Edgeworths- 
town,  but  persuaded  his  stepmother  and  his  numerous 
brothers  and  sisters  still  to  regard  it  as  a  home. 

To  enable  the  reader  to  understand  the  relationships 
of  the  large  family  circle,  it  may  be  well  to  give  the 
children  of  Mr.  Edgeworth. 

I  Richard,  b.  1765 ;  d.  s.  p.  1796. 
Maria,  b.  1767 ;  d.  unmarried,  1849. 
T?  V  •     J       1QAO       T    t.        V 

Emmelme,  married,  1802,  John  King, 
,-, 
Jiisq. 
Anna,  married,  1794,  Dr.  Beddoes. 

2d   marriage,  with  (  Lovell,  b.  1776 ;  d.  unmarried,  1841. 
Honora  Sneyd.      {  Honora,  d.  unmarried,  1790. 

Henry,  b.  1782 ;  d.  unmarried,  1813. 
Charles  Sneyd,  b.  1786 ;  d.  s.  p.  1864. 
William,  6.  1788 ;  d.  1792. 
Thomas  Day,  b.  1789  ;  d.  1792. 


3d  marriage,  with 
Elizabeth  Sneyd. 


William,  6.  1794;  d.  s.  p.  1829. 
Elizabeth,  d.  1800. 
Charlotte,  d.  1807. 
Sophia,  d.  1785. 

Honora,  married,  1831,  Admiral  Sir  J. 
Beaufort,  and  d.,  his  widow,  1858. 


258 


MAEIA  EDGEWOKTH 


[1817 


4th  marriage,  with 

Frances  Anna 

Beaufort. 


"Francis  Beaufort,  b.  1809;  married, 
1831,  Rosa  Florentina  Erolas,  and 
had  four  sons  and  a  daughter.  The 
second  son,  Antonio  Erolas,  eventu- 
ally succeeded  his  uncle  Sneyd  at 
Edgeworthstown. 

Michael  Pakenham,  b.  1812 ;  married, 
1846,  Christina  Macpherson,  and  had 
issue. 

Francis  Maria  (Fanny),  married,  1829, 
Lestock  P.  Wilson,  Esq.,  and  d.  1848. 

Harriet,  married,  1826,  Rev.  Richard 
Butler,  afterwards  Dean  of  Clonmac- 
noise. 

Sophia,  married,  1824,  Barry  Fox,  Esq., 
and  rf.  1837. 

Lucy  Jane,  married,  1843,  Rev.  T.  R. 
Robinson,  D.  D. 


During  the  months  which  succeeded  her  father's 
death,  Maria  wrote  scarcely  any  letters;  her  sight  caused 
great  anxiety.  The  tears,  she  said,  felt  in  her  eyes  like 
the  cutting  of  a  knife.  She  had  overworked  them  all 
the  previous  winter,  sitting  up  at  night  and  struggling 
with  her  grief  as  she  wrote  "Ormond;"  and  she  was 
now  unable  to  use  them  without  pain. 

In  October  she  went  to  Black  Castle,  and  remained 
there  till  January,  1818,  having  the  strength  of  mind  to 
abstain  almost  entirely  from  reading  and  writing. 

It  required  all  Maria  Edgeworth's  inherited  activity 
of  mind,  and  all  her  acquired  command  over  herself, 
to  keep  up  the  spirits  of  her  family  on  their  return 
to  Edgeworthstown;  from  which  the  Master-mind  was 
gone,  and  where  the  light  was  quenched.  But  not- 
withstanding all  the  depression  she  felt,  she  set  to  work 


1818]  TO  MKS.   RUXTON  259 

immediately  at  what  she  now  felt  to  be  her  first  duty  — 
the  fulfillment  of  her  father's  wish  that  she  should  com- 
plete the  Memoirs  of  his  life,  which  he  had  himself 
begun.  Yet  her  eyes  were  still  so  weak  that  she  sel- 
dom allowed  herself  what  had  been  her  greatest  relaxa- 
tion —  writing  letters  to  her  friends. 

MARIA    TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  January  24,  1818. 

My  dearest  aunt  and  friend  —  friend  of  my  youth 
and  age,  and  beloved  sister  of  my  father,  how  many 
titles  you  have  to  my  affection  and  gratitude,  and  how 
delightful  it  is  to  me  to  feel  them  all !  Since  I  have 
parted  from  you,  I  have  felt  still  more  than  when  I  was 
with  you  the  peculiar  value  to  me  of  your  sympathy 
and  kindness.  I  find  my  spirits  sink  beyond  my  ut- 
most effort  to  support  them  when  I  leave  you,  and  they 
rise  involuntarily  when  I  am  near  you,  and  recall  the 
dear  trains  of  old  associations,  and  the  multitude  of 
ideas  I  used  to  have  .with  him  who  is  gone  forever. 
Thank  you,  my  dear  aunt,  for  your  most  kind  and 
touching  letter.  You  have  been  for  three  months  daily 
and  hourly  soothing,  and  indulging,  and  nursing  me 
body  and  mind,  and  making  me  forget  the  sense  of  pain 
which  I  could  not  have  felt  suspended  in  any  society 
but  yours.  My  uncle's  opinion  and  hints  about  the 
Life  I  have  been  working  at  this  whole  week.  Nothing 
can  be  kinder  than  Lovell  is  to  all  of  us. 

I  have  read  two  thirds  of  Bishop  Watson's  life.  I 
think  he  bristles  his  independence  too  much  upon  every 
occasion,  and  praises  himself  too  much  for  it,  and  above 
all  complains  too  much  of  the  want  of  preferment  and 


260  MAEIA  EDGEWOETH  [FEB. 

neglect  of  him  by  the  Court.  I  have  Madame  de 
Stael's  Memoirs  of  her  father's  private  life;  I  have 
only  read  fifty  pages  of  it  —  too  much  of  a  French  eloge 
—  too  little  of  his  private  life.  There  is  a  Notice,  hy 
Benjamin  Constant,  of  Madame  de  Stael's  life  prefixed 
to  this  work,  which  appears  to  me  more  interesting  and 
pathetic  than  anything  Madame  de  Stael  has  yet  said  of 
her  father. 

February  21. 

I  must  and  will  write  to  my  Aunt  Ruxton  to-day,  if 
the  whole  College  of  Physicians,  and  the  whole  conclave 
of  cardinal  virtues,  with  Prudence  primming  up  her 
mouth  at  the  head  of  them,  stood  before  me.  I  entirely 
agree  with  you,  my  dearest  aunt,  on  one  subject,  as 
indeed  I  generally  do  on  most  subjects,  but  particularly 
about  "Northanger  Abbey"  and  "Persuasion."  The 
behavior  of  the  General  in  "Northanger  Abbey,"  pack- 
ing off  the  young  lady  without  a  servant  or  the  common 
civilities  which  any  bear  of  a  man,  not  to  say  gentleman, 
would  have  shown,  is  quite  outrageously  out  of  drawing 
and  out  of  nature.  "  Persuasion  "  —  excepting  the  tan- 
gled, useless  histories  of  the  family  in  the  first  fifty 
pages  —  appears  to  me,  especially  in  all  that  relates  to 
poor  Anne  and  her  lover,  to  be  exceedingly  interesting 
and  natural.  The  love  and  the  lover  admirably  well 
drawn;  don't  you  see  Captain  Wentworth,  or  rather 
don't  you  in  her  place  feel  him,  taking  the  boisterous 
child  off  her  back  as  she  kneels  by  the  sick  boy  on  the 
sofa?  And  is  not  the  first  meeting  after  their  long 
separation  admirably  well  done?  And  the  overheard 
conversation  about  the  nut  ?  But  I  must  stop ;  we  have 


1818]  TO  MKS.   SNEYD   EDGEWOKTH  261 

got  no  farther  than  the  disaster   of  Miss  Musgrave's 
jumping  off  the  steps. 

I  am  going  on,  but  very  slowly,  and  not  to  my  satis- 
faction with  my  work. 

TO    MRS.    SNEYD    EDGEWORTH. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  March  27. 

I  agree  with  you  in  thinking  the  MS.  de  St.  Helene 
a  magnificent  performance.  My  father  was  strongly  of 
opinion  that  it  was  not  written  by  Buonaparte  himself, 
and  he  grounded  this  opinion  chiefly  upon  the  passages 
relative  to  the  Due  d'Enghien:  c'etait  plus  qu'un 
crime,  c'etait  une  faute;  no  man,  he  thought,  not 
even  Nero,  would,  in  writing  for  posterity,  say  that  he 
had  committed  a  crime  instead  of  a  fault.  But  it  may 
be  observed  that  in  the  Buonaparte  system  of  morality 
which  runs  through  the  book,  nothing  is  considered 
what  we  call  a  crime,  unless  it  be  what  he  allows  to  be 
a  fault.  His  proof  that  he  did  not  murder  Pichegru  is, 
that  it  would  have  been  useless.  Le  cachet  de  Buona- 
parte is  as  difficult  to  imitate  as  le  cachet  de  Voltaire. 
I  know  of  but  three  people  in  Europe  who  could  have 
written  it :  Madame  de  Stae'l,  Talleyrand,  or  M.  Dumont. 
Madame  de  Stae'l,  though  she  has  the  ability,  could  not 
have  got  so  plainly  and  shortly  through  it.  Talleyrand 
has  I' esprit  comme  un  demon,  but  he  could  not  for  the 
soul  of  him  have  refused  himself  a  little  more  wit  and 
wickedness.  Dumont  has  not  enough  audacity  of  mind. 


262  MARIA  EDGEWORTH 


TO    MRS.     STARK.1 

SPRING  FARM,  N.  T.,  MOUNT  KENNEDY, 
June,  1818. 

I  am,  and  have  been  ever  since  I  could  any  way  com- 
mand my  attention,  intent  upon  finishing  those  Memoirs 
of  himself  which  my  father  left  me  to  finish  and  charged 
me  to  publish.  Yet  I  have  accepted  an  invitation  to ' 
Bowood,  from  Lady  Lansdowne,  whom  I  love,  and  as 
soon'  as  I  have  finished  I  shall  go  there.  As  to  Scot- 
land, I  have  no  chance  of  getting  there  at  present,  but 
if  ever  I  go  there,  depend  upon  it,  I  shall  go  to  see 
you.  Never,  never  can  I  forget  those  happy  days  we 
spent  with  you,  and  the  warm-hearted  kindness  we 
received  from  you  and  yours;  those  were  "sunny  spots" 
in  my  life. 

TO    MES.    EDGEWORTH. 

BOWOOD,  September,  1818. 

I  will  tell  you  how  we  pass  our  day.  At  seven  I  get 
up  —  this  morning  at  half-past  six,  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  writing  to  you,  my  dearest  mother;  be  satisfied  I 
never  write  a  word  at  night;  breakfast  is  at  half  after 
nine,  very  pleasant;  afterwards  we  all  stray  into  the 
library  for  a  few  minutes,  and  settle  when  we  shall 
meet  again  for  walking,  etc. ;  then  Lady  Lansdowne 
goes  to  her  dear  dressing-room  and  dear  children, 
Dumont  to  his  attic,  Lord  Lansdowne  to  his  out-of-door 
works,  and  we  to  our  elegant  dressing-room,  and  Miss 
Carnegy  to  hers.  Between  one  and  two  is  luncheon; 
happy  time!  Lady  Lansdowne  is  so  cheerful,  polite, 
1  Daughter  of  Mr.  Bannatyne,  of  Glasgow. 


1818]  TO  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  263 

and  easy,  just  as  she  was  in  her  walks  at  Edge  worths- 
town;  but  very  different  walks  are  the  walks  we  take 
here,  most  various  and  delightful,  from  dressed  shrub- 
bery and  park  walks  to  fields  with  inviting  paths,  wide 
downs,  shady  winding  lanes,  and  happy  cottages  —  not 
dressed,  but  naturally  well  placed,  and  with  evidence  in 
every  part  of  their  being  suited  to  the  inhabitants. 

After  our  walk  we  dress  and  make  haste  for  dinner. 
Dinner  is  always  pleasant,  because  Lord  and  Lady  Lans- 
downe  converse  so  agreeably  —  Dumont  also  —  towards 
the  dessert.  After  dinner,  we  find  the  children  in  the 
drawing-room;  I  like  them  better  and  better  the  more  I 
see  of  them.  When  there  is  company  there  is  a  whist 
table  for  the  gentlemen.  Dumont  read  out  one  evening 
one  of  Corneille's  plays,  "Le  Florentin,"  which  is  beau- 
tiful, and  was  beautifully  read.  We  asked  for  one  of 
Moliere,  but  he  said  to  Lord  Lansdowne  that  it  was 
impossible  to  read  Moliere  aloud  without  a  quicker  eye 
than  he  had  pour  de  certains  propos  —  however,  they 
went  to  the  library  and  brought  out  at  last  as  odd  a 
choice  as  could  well  be  made,  with  Mr.  Thomas  Gren- 
ville  as  auditor,  "Le  vieux  Celibataire, "  an  excellent 
play,  interesting  and  lively  throughout,  and  the  old 
bachelor  himself  a  charming  character.  Dumont  read 
it  as  well  as  Tessier  could  have  read  it;  but  there  were 
things  which  seemed  as  if  they  were  written  on  purpose 
for  the  Ce'libataire  who  was  listening,  and  the  Celiba- 
taire who  was  reading. 

Lord  Lansdowne,  when  I  asked  him  to  describe 
Rocca1  to  me,  said  he  heard  him  give  an  answer  to 
Lord  Byron  which  marked  the  indignant  frankness  of 
1  Second  husband  of  Madame  de  StaeL 


264  MAKIA   EDGE  WORTH  [SEPT. 

his  mind.  Lord  Byron  at  Coppet  had  been  going  on 
abusing  the  stupidity  of  the  good  people  of  Geneva; 
Rocca  at  last  turned  short  upon  him  —  "Eh!  milord, 
pourquoi  done  venez-vous  vous  fourrer  parmi  ces  hon- 
netes  gens  ? " 

Madame  de  Stael  —  I  jumble  anecdotes  together  as  I 
recollect  them  —  Madame  de  Stael  had  a  great  wish  to 
see  Mr.  Bowles,  the  poet,  or  as  Lord  Byron  calls  him 
the  sonneteer;  she  admired  his  sonnets,  and  his  "Spirit 
of  Maritime  Discovery, "  and  ranked  him  high  as  an  Eng- 
lish genius.  In  riding  to  Bowood  he  fell,  and  sprained 
Ms  shoulder,  but  still  came  on.  Lord  Lansdowne 
alluded  to  this  in  presenting  him  to  Madame  de  Stael 
before  dinner  in  the  midst  of  the  listening  circle.  She 
began  to  compliment  him  and  herself  upon  the  exertion 
he  had  made  to  come  and  see  her:  "Oh,  ma'am,  say  no 
more,  for  I  would  have  done  a  great  deal  more  to  see  so 
great  a  curiosity  !  " 

Lord  Lansdowne  says  it  is  impossible  to  describe  the 
shock  in  Madame  de  Stael' s  face  —  the  breathless  aston- 
ishment and  the  total  change  produced  in  her  opinion  of 
.the  man.  She  afterwards  said  to  Lord  Lansdowne, 
who  had  told  her  he  was  a  simple  country  clergyman, 
"  Je  vois  bien  que  ce  n'est  qu'un  simple  curs'  qui  n'a 
pas  le  sens  commun,  quoique  grand  poete." 

Lady  Lansdowne,  just  as  I  was  writing  this,  came  to 
my  room  and  paid  me  half  an  hour's  visit.  She  brought 
back  my  father's  MS.,  which  I  had  lent  to  her  to  read; 
she  was  exceedingly  interested  in  it;  she  says,  "It  is 
not  only  entertaining  but  interesting,  as  showing  how 
such  a  character  was  formed." 


1818]  TO  MISS   RUXTON  265 

TO    MISS    KUXTON. 

BOWOOD,  September  19, 1818. 

You  know  our  history  up  to  Saturday  last,  when 
Lord  and  Lady  Grenville  left  Bowood;  there  remained 
Mr.  Thomas  Grenville,  Le  vieux  Celibataire,  two  Horts, 
Sir  William,  and  his  brother,  Mr.  Gaily  Knight,  and 
Lord  and  Lady  Bathurst,  and  their  two  daughters. 
Mr.  Grenville  left  us  yesterday,  and  the  rest  go  to-day. 
Mr.  Grenville  was  very,  agreeable;  dry,  quiet  humor; 
grave  face,  dark,  thin,  and  gentleman-like;  a  lie-by 
manner,  entertained,  or  entertaining  by  turns.  It  is 
curious  that  we  have  seen  within  the  course  of  a  week 
one  of  the  heads  of  the  ministerial,  and  one  of  the  ex- 
ministerial  party.  In  point  of  ability,  Lord  Grenville 
is,  I  think,  far  superior  to  any  one  I  have  seen  here. 
Lord  Lansdowne,  with  whom  I  had  a  delightful  tete-a- 
tete  walk  yesterday,  told  me  that  Lord  Grenville  can  be 
fully  known  only  when  people  come  to  do  political 
business  with  him;  there  he  excels.  You  know  his 
preface  to  Lord  Chatham's  "Letters."  His  manner  of 
speaking  in  the  House  is  not  pleasing,  Lord  Lansdowne 
says:  from  being  very  near-sighted  he  has  a  look  of 
austerity  and  haughtiness,  and  as  he  cannot  see  all  he 
wants  to  see,  he  throws  himself  back  with  his  chin  up, 
determined  to  look  at  none.  Lord  Lansdowne  gave  me 
an  instance  —  I  may  say  a  warning  —  of  the  folly  of 
judging  hastily  of  character  at  first  sight  from  small 
circumstances.  In  one  of  Cowper's  letters  there  is  an 
absurd  character  of  Lord  Grenville,  in  which  he  is  rep- 
resented as  a  petit  maitre.  This  arose  from  Lord 
Grenville  taking  up  his  near-sighted  glass  several  times 


266  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Ocx. 

during  his  visit.  There  cannot,  in  nature  or  art,  be  a 
man  further  from  a  petit  maitre. 

Lady  Bathurst  is  remarkably  obliging  to  me;  we 
have  many  subjects  in  common,  —  her  brother,  the  Duke 
of  Richmond,  and  all  Ireland;  her  aunt,  Lady  Louisa 
Connolly,  and  Miss  Emily  Napier,  and  all  the  Paken- 
hams  and  the  Duchess  of  Wellington.  The  Duke  lately 
said  to  Mrs.  Pole,  "After  all,  home  is  what  we  must 
look  to  at  last." 

Lady  Georgiana  is  a  very  pretty,  and  I  need  scarcely 
say,  fashionable-looking  young  lady,  easy,  agreeable, 
and  quite  unaffected. 

This  visit  to  Bowood  has  surpassed  my  expectation  in 
every  respect.  I  much  enjoy  the  sight  of  Lady  Lans- 
downe's  happiness  with  her  husband  and  her  children; 
beauty,  fortune,  cultivated  society,  in  short,  everything 
that  the  most  reasonable  or  unreasonable  could  wish. 
She  is  so  amiable  and  so  desirous  to  make  others  happy, 
that  it  is  impossible  not  to  love  her;  and  the  most 
envious  of  mortals,  I  think,  would  have  the  heart 
opened  to  sympathy  with  her.  Then  Lord  and  Lady 
Lansdowne  are  so  fond  of  each  other,  and  show  it,  and 
don't  show  it,  in  the  most  agreeable  manner.  His 
conversation  is  very  various  and  natural,  full  of  infor- 
mation, given  for  the  sake  of  those  to  whom  he  speaks, 
never  for  display.  What  he  says  always  lets  us  into 
his  feelings  and  character,  and  therefore  is  interesting. 

TO    MBS.    EDGEWORTH. 

THE  GROVE,  EPPING,  October  4, 1818. 
I  mentioned  one  day  at  dinner  at  Bowood  that  chil- 
dren have  very  early  a  desire  to  produce  an  effect,  a 


1818]  TO  MRS.   EDGE  WORTH  267 

sensation  in  company.  "Yes,"  said  Lord  Lansdowne, 
"I  remember  distinctly  having  that  feeling,  and  acting 
upon  it  once  in  a  large  and  august  company,  when  I 
was  a  young  boy,  at  the  time  of  the  French  Revolution, 
when  the  Duke  and  Duchess  de  Polignac  came  to 
Bowood,  and  my  father  was  anxious  to  receive  these 
illustrious  guests  with  all  due  honor.  One  Sunday 
evening,  when  they  were  all  sitting  in  state  in  the 
drawing-room,  my  father  introduced  me,  and  I  was 
asked  to  give  the  company  a  sermon.  The  text  I  chose 
was,  quite  undesignedly,  c  Put  not  your  trust  in 
princes. '  The  moment  I  had  pronounced  the  words,  I 
saw  my  father's  countenance  change,  and  I  saw  changes 
in  the  countenances  of  the  Duke  and  Duchess,  and  of 
every  face  in  the  circle.  I  saw  I  was  the  cause  of  this; 
and  though  I  knew  my  father  wanted  to  stop  me,  I 
would  go  on,  to  see  what  would  be  the  effect.  I 
repeated  my  text,  and  preached  upon  it,  and  as  I  went 
on,  made  out  what  it  was  that  affected  the  congrega- 
tion." 

Afterwards  Lord   Shelburne  desired  the  boy  to  go 

J  O 

round  the  circle  and  wish  the  company  good- night;  but 
when  he  came  to  the  Duchess  de  Polignac,  he  could  not 
resolve  to  kiss  her;  he  so  detested  the  patch  of  rouge 
on  her  cheek,  he  started  back.  Lord  Shelburne  whis- 
pered a  bribe  in  his  ear  —  no,  he  would  not ;  and  they 
were  obliged  to  laugh  it  off.  But  his  father  was  very 
much  vexed. 

HAMPSTEAD,  October  13. 

We  had  a  delightful  drive  here  yesterday  from 
Epping.  Joanna  Baillie  and  her  sister,  most  kind, 
cordial,  and  warm-hearted,  came  running  down  their 


268  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [OCT. 

little  flagged  walk  to  welcome  us.  Mrs.  Hunter,  widow 
of  John  Hunter,  dined  here  yesterday ;  she  wrote  "  The 
son  of  Alnomac  shall  never  complain,"  and  she  enter- 
tained me  exceedingly;  and  both  Joanna  and  her  sister 
have  most  agreeable  and  new  conversation,  not  old,  trum- 
pery literature  over  again,  and  reviews,  but  new  circum- 
stances worth  telling,  apropos  to  every  subject  that  is 
touched  upon;  frank  observations  on  character,  without 
either  ill-nature  or  the  fear  of  committing  themselves; 
no  blue-stocking  tittle  -  tattle,  or  habits  of  worshiping 
or  being  worshiped;  domestic,  affectionate,  good  to 
live  with,  and,  without  fussing  continually,  doing  what 
is  most  obliging,  and  whatever  makes  us  feel  most  at 
home.  Breakfast  is  very  pleasant  in  this  house,  and 
the  two  good  sisters  look  so  neat  and  cheerful. 

October  15. 

We  went  to  see  Mrs.  Barbauld  at  Stoke  Newington. 
She  was  gratified  by  our  visit,  and  very  kind  and  agree- 
able. 

BOWOOD.  November  3, 1818. 

We  have  just  returned  to  dear  Bowood.  We  went 
to  Wimbledon,  where  Lady  Spencer  was  very  attentive 
and  courteous;  she  is,  I  may  say,  the  cleverest  person 
I  have  seen  since  I  came  to  England.  At  parting  she 
"  God  blessed  "  me.  We  met  there  Lady  Jones,  widow 
of  Sir  William  —  thin,  dried,  tall  old  lady,  nut-cracker 
chin,  penetrating,  benevolent,  often-smiling,  black  eyes; 
and  her  nephew,  young  Mr.  Hare ; 1  and,  the  last  day, 
Mr.  Brunei.2 

1  Augustus  William  Hare,  one  of  the  authors  of  Guesses  at  Truth. 

2  Afterwards  Sir  Mark  Isamband  Brunei,  engineer  of  the  Thames 
tunnel,  Woolwich  Arsenal,  etc.,  1769-1849. 


1818]  TO  MISS   WALLER  269 

This  moment  Mrs.  Dugald  Stewart,  who  was  out 
walking,  has  come  in  —  the  same  dear  woman!  I  have 
seen  Mr.  Stewart  —  very,  very  weak  —  he  cannot  walk 
without  an  arm  to  lean  on. 

BOWOOD,  November  4, 1818. 

The  newspapers  have  told  you  the  dreadful  catas- 
trophe—  the  death,  and  the  manner  of  the  death,  of 
that  great  and  good  man,  Sir  Samuel  Romilly.  My 
dearest  mother,  there  seems  no  end  of  horrible  calami- 
ties. There  is  no  telling  how  it  has  been  felt  in  this 
house.  I  did  not  know  till  now  that  Mr.  Dugald 
Stewart  had  been  so  very  intimate  with  Sir  Samuel,  and 
so  very  much  attached  to  him  —  forty  years  his  friend; 
he  has  been  dreadfully  shocked.  He  was  just  getting 
better,  enjoyed  seeing  us,  conversed  quite  happily  with 
me  the  first  evening,  and  I  felt  reassured  about  him ; 
but  what  may  be  the  consequence  of  this  stroke  none 
can  tell.  I  rejoice  that  we  came  to  meet  him  here: 
they  say  that  I  am  of  use  conversing  with  him.  Lord 
Lansdowne  looks  wretchedly,  and  can  hardly  speak  on 
the  subject  without  tears,  notwithstanding  all  his  efforts. 

TO    MISS    WALLER.1 

BYRKELY  LODGE,  November  24,  1818. 

In  the  gloom  which  the  terrible  and  most  unexpected 
loss  of  Sir  Samuel  Romilly  cast  over  the  whole  society 
at  Bowood  during  the  last  few  days  we  spent  there,  I 
recollect  some  minutes  of  pleasure.  When  I  was  con- 
sulting Mrs.  Dugald  Stewart  about  my  father's  MS.,  I 

1  Miss  Waller  was  aunt  of  Captain  Beaufort  and  the  fourth  Mrs. 
Edgeworth. 


270  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1818 

mentioned  Captain  Beaufort's  opinion  on  some  point; 
the  moment  his  name  had  passed  my  lips,  Mr.  Stewart's 
grave  countenance  lighted  up,  and  he  exclaimed,  "  Cap- 
tain Beaufort!  I  have  the  very  highest  opinion  of 
Captain  Beaufort  ever  since  I  saw  a  letter  of  his,  which 
I  consider  to  be  one  of  the  best  letters  I  ever  read.  It 
was  to  the  father  of  a  young  gentleman  who  died  at 
Malta,  to  whom  Captain  Beaufort  had  been  the  best  of 
friends.  The  young  man  had  excellent  qualities,  but 
some  frailties.  Captain  Beaufort's  letter  to  the  father 
threw  a  veil  over  the  son's  frailties,  and  without  depart- 
ing from  the  truth,  placed  all  his  good  qualities  in  the 
most  amiable  light.  The  old  man  told  me, "  continued 
Mr.  Stewart,  "that  this  letter  was  the  only  earthly 
consolation  he  ever  felt  for  the  loss  of  his  son;  he  spoke 
of  it  with  tears  streaming  from  his  eyes,  and  pointed  in 
particular  to  the  passage  that  recorded  the  warm  affec- 
tion with  which  his  son  used  to  speak  of  him." 

It  is  delightful  to  find  the  effect  of  a  friend's  goodness 
thus  coming  round  to  us  at  a  great  distance  of  time,  and 
to  see  that  it  has  raised  him  in  the  esteem  of  those  we 
most  admire. 

Mr.  Stewart  has  not  yet  recovered  his  health;  he  is 
more  alarmed,  I  think,  than  he  need  to  be  by  the  diffi- 
culty he  finds  in  recollecting  names  and  circumstances 
that  passed  immediately  before  and  after  his  fever. 
This  hesitation  of  memory,  I  believe,  everybody  has 
felt  more  or  less  after  any  painful  event.  In  every 
other  respect  Mr.  Stewart's  mind  appears  to  me  to  be 
exactly  what  it  ever  was,  and  his  kindness  of  heart 
even  greater  than  we  have  for  so  many  years  known  it 
to  be. 


1819]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  271 

We  are  now  happy  in  the  quiet  of  Byrkely  Lodge. 
We  have  not  had  any  visitors  since  we  came,  and  have 
paid  only  one  visit,  to  the  Miss  Jacksons.  Miss  Fanny 
is,  you  know,  the  author  of  "Rhoda;"  Miss  Maria,  the 
author  of  a  little  book  of  advice  about  "  A  Gay  Garden. " 
I  like  the  Gay  Garden  lady  best  at  first  sight,  but  I 
will  suspend  my  judgment  prudently  till  I  see  more. 

I  have  just  heard  a  true  story  worthy  of  a  postscript 
even  in  the  greatest  haste.  Two  stout  foxhunters  in 
this  neighborhood,  who  happened  each  to  have  as  great 
a  dread  of  a  spider  as  ever  fine  lady  had  or  pretended  to 
have,  chanced  to  be  left  together  in  a  room  where  a 
spider  appeared,  crawling  from  under  a  table,  at  which 
they  were  sitting.  Neither  durst  approach  within  arm's 
length  of  it,  or  touch  it  even  with  a  pair  of  tongs;  at 
last  one  of  the  gentlemen  proposed  to  the  other,  who 
was  in  thick  boots,  to  get  on  the  table  and  jump  down 
upon  his  enemy,  which  was  effected  to  their  infinite 
satisfaction. 

TO    MRS.     RUXTON. 

BYRKELY  LODGE,  January  20, 1819. 

I  see  my  little  dog  on  your  lap,  and  feel  your  hand 
patting  his  head,  and  hear  your  voice  telling  him  that 
it  is  for  Maria's  sake  he  is  there.  I  wish  I  was  in  his 
place,  or  at  least  on  the  sofa  beside  you  at  this  moment, 
that  I  might  in  five  minutes  tell  you  more  than  my  let- 
ters could  tell  you  in  five  hours. 

I  have  scarcely  yet  recovered  from  the  joy  of  having 
Fanny  actually  with  me,  and  with  me  just  in  time  to  go 
to  Trentham,  on  which  I  had  set  my  foolish  heart. 
We  met  her  at  Lichfield.  We  spent  that  evening  there 


272  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JAN. 

—  the  children  of  four  different  marriages  all  united  and 
happy  together.      Lovell  took  Francis 1  on  with  him  to 
Byrkely  Lodge,  and  we  went  to  Trentham. 

When  Honora  and  I  had  Fanny  in  the  chaise  to 
ourselves,  ye  gods!  how  we  did  talk!  We  arrived  at 
Trentham  by  moonlight,  and  could  only  just  see  out- 
lines of  wood  and  hills;  silver  light  upon  the  broad 
water,  and  cheerful  lights  in  the  front  of  a  large  house, 
with  wide  open  hall  door.  Nothing  could  be  more 
polite  and  cordial  than  the  reception  given  to  us  by 
Lady  Stafford,  and  by  her  good-natured,  noblemanlike 
lord.  During  our  whole  visit,  what  particularly  pleased 
me  was  the  manner  in  which  they  treated  my  sisters; 
not  as  appendages  to  an  authoress,  not  as  young  ladies 
merely  permitted,  or  to  fill  up  as  personnar/es  muets  in 
society;  on  the  contrary,  Lady  Stafford  conversed  with 
them  a  great  deal,  and  repeatedly  took  opportunities  of 
expressing  to  me  how  much  she  liked  and  valued  them 
for  their  own  sake.  "That  sister  Fanny  of  yours  has 
a  most  intelligent  countenance;  she  is  much  more  than 
pretty ;  and  what  I  so  like  is  her  manner  of  answering 
when  she  is  asked  any  question  —  so  unlike  the  Missy 
style.  They  have  both  been  admirably  well  educated." 
Then  she  spoke  in  the  handsomest  manner  of  my  father 

—  "a  master-mind;  even  in  the  short  time  I  saw  him 
that  was  apparent  to  me." 

Lady  Elizabeth  Gower  is  a  most  engaging,  sensible, 
unaffected,  sweet  pretty  creature.  While  Lady  Stafford 
in  the  morning  was  in  the  library  doing  a  drawing  in 

l  Son  of  the  fourth  Mrs.  Edgeworth,  who  was  going  to  the  Charter- 
house, and  who  had  accompanied  his  sister  Fanny,  with  Lovell,  from 
Edgeworthstown. 


1819]  TO   MRS.   RUXTON  273 

water  colors  to  show  Honora  her  manner  of  finishing 
quickly,  Fanny  and  I  sat  up  in  Lady  Elizabeth's  dar- 
ling little  room  at  the  top  of  the  house,  where  she  has 
all  her  drawings,  and  writing,  and  books,  and  harp. 
She  and  her  brother,  Lord  Francis,  have  always  been 
friends  and  companions;  and  on  her  table  were  bits  of 
paper  on  which  he  had  scribbled  droll  heads,  and  verses 
of  his,  very  good,  on  the  "Expulsion  of  the  Moors  from 
Spain ; "  Lady  Elizabeth  knew  every  line  of  these,  and 
had  all  that  quick  feeling,  and  coloring  apprehension, 
and  slurring  dexterity,  which  those  who  read  out  what 
is  written  by  a  dear  friend  so  well  understand. 

Large  rooms  filled  with  pictures,  most  of  them  modern 
—  Reynolds,  Moreland,  Glover,  Wilkie;  but  there  are 
a  few  ancient;  one  of  Titian's,  that  struck  me  as  beau- 
tiful—  "Hermes  teaching  Cupid  to  read."  The  chief 
part  of  the  collection  is  in  the  house  in  town.  After  a 
happy  week  at  Trentham  we  returned  here. 

Mercy  on  my  poor  memory!  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
that  Lady  Harrowby  and  her  daughter  were  at  Trent- 
ham,  and  an  exquisite,  or  tiptop  dandy,  Mr.  Standish, 
and  young  Mr.  Sneyd,  of  Keil  —  very  fashionable. 
Lady  Harrowby  deserves  Madame  de  Stael's  good  word, 
she  calls  her  "compagne  spirituelle"  —  a  charming 
woman,  and  very  quick  in  conversation. 

The  morning  after  Mr.  Standish's  arrival,  Lady  Staf- 
ford's maid  told  her  that  she  and  all  the  ladies'  maids 
had  been  taken  by  his  gentleman  to  see  his  toilette  — 
"which,  I  assure  you,  my  lady,  is  the  thing  best  worth 
seeing  in  this  house,  all  of  gilt  plate,  and  I  wish,  my 
lady,  you  had  such  a  dressing  box."  Though  an  exqui- 
site, Mr.  Standish  is  clever,  entertaining,  and  agreeable. 


274  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JAN. 

One  day  that  lie  sat  beside  me  at  dinner,  we  had  a 
delightful  battledore  and  shuttlecock  conversation  from 
grave  to  gay  as  quick  as  your  heart  could  wish;  from 
"L'  Almanac  des  Gourmandes"  and  le  respectable  pore, 
to  "Dorriforth  and  the  Simple  Story." 

January  22. 

My  letter  has  been  detained  two  days  for  a  frank. 
My  aunts l  are  pretty  well,  and  we  feel  that  we  add  to 
their  cheerfulness.  Honora  plays  cribbage  with  Aunt 
Mary,  and  I  read  Florence  Macarthy;  I  like  the  Irish 
characters,  and  the  Commodore,  and  Lord  Adelm  —  that 
is  Lord  Byron;  but  Ireland  is  traduced  in  some  of  her 
representations.  "  Marriage  "  is  delightfuL 

TO    MRS.    EDGEWORTH. 

BYRKELY  LODGE,  February  8, 1819. 

Mrs.  Sneyd  took  me  with  her  to-day  to  Lord  Bagot's 
to  return  Lady  Dartmouth's  visit;  she  is  a  charming 
woman,  and  appears  most  amiable,  taking  care  of  all 
those  grandchildren.  Lord  Bagot  very  melancholy, 
gentlemanlike,  and  interesting.  Fine  old  cloistered 
house,  galleries,  painted  glass,  coats  of  arms,  and  family 
pictures  everywhere.  It  was  the  first  time  Lord  Bagot 
had  seen  Mrs.  Sneyd  since  his  wife's  death;  he  took 
both  her  hands  and  was  as  near  bursting  into  tears  as 
ever  man  was.  He  was  very  obliging  to  me,  and 
showed  me  all  over  his  house,  and  gave  me  a  most  sweet 

bunch  of  Daphne  Indica. 

TETSWORTH  INN,  March  4. 

On  Tuesday  morning  we  left  dear,  happy,  luxurious, 
warm  Byrkely  Lodge.     At  taking  leave  of   me,    Mr. 
1  The  Miss  Sneyds  were  now  living  for  a  time  at  Byrkely  Lodge. 


1819]  TO  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  275 

Sneyd  began  thanking  me  as  if  I  had  been  the  person 
obliging  instead  of  obliged,  and  when  I  got  up  from  the 
breakfast  table  and  went  round  to  stop  his  thanks  by 
mine,  he  took  me  in  his  arms  and  gave  me  a  squeeze 
that  left  me  as  flat  as  a  pancake,  and  then  ran  out  of 
the  room  absolutely  crying. 

We  arrived  at  tea-time  at  Mrs.  Moilliet's,1  Smeth- 
wick,  near  Birmingham,  much  pleased  with  our  recep- 
tion, and  with  Mr.  Moilliet  and  their  five  children. 
He  has  purchased  a  delightful  house  on  the  banks  of 
the  Lake  of  Geneva,  where  they  go  next  summer,  and 
most  earnestly  pressed  us  to  visit  them  there. 

Mr.  Moilliet  told  us  an  anecdote  of  Madame  la  Com- 
tesse  de  Eumford  and  her  charming  Count;  he  one  day, 
in  a  fit  of  ill-humor,  went  to  the  porter  and  forbade  him 
to  let  into  his  house  any  of  the  friends  of  Madame  la 
Comtesse  or  of  M.  Lavoisier  —  all  the  society  which 
you  and  I  saw  at  her  house;  they  had  been  invited  to 
supper;  the  old  porter,  all  disconsolate,  went  to  tell  the 
Countess  the  order  he  had  received.  "Well,  you  must 
obey  your  master,  you  must  not  let  them  into  the  house, 
but  I  will  go  down  to  your  lodge,  and  as  each  carriage 
comes,  you  will  let  them  know  what  has  happened, 
and  that  I  am  there  to  receive  them." 

They  all  came;  and  by  two  or  three  at  a  time  went 
into  the  porter's  lodge  and  spent  the  evening  with  her; 
their  carriages  lining  the  street  all  night,  to  the  Count's 
infinite  mortification. 

Mr.  Moilliet  also  told  Fanny  of  a  Yorkshire  farmer 
who  went  to  the  Bank  of  England,  and,  producing  a 
Bank  of  England  note  for  £30,000,  asked  to  have  it 
1  Daughter  of  Mr.  Keir,  Mrs.  Edgeworth's  old  friend. 


276  MARIA  EDGEWOKTH  [MARCH 

changed.  The  clerk  was  surprised  and  hesitated,  said 
that  a  note  for  so  large  a  sum  was  very  uncommon, 
and  that  he  knew  there  never  had  been  more  than 
two  £30,000  bank  notes  issued.  "Oh,  yes!"  said  the 
farmer,  "  I  have  the  other  at  home. " 

We  went  to  see  dear  old  Mr.  Watt:  eighty -four,  and 
in  perfect  possession  of  eyes,  ears,  and  all  his  compre- 
hensive understanding  and  warm  heart.  Poor  Mrs. 
Watt  is  almost  crippled  with  rheumatism,  but  as  good- 
natured  and  hospitable  as  ever,  and  both  were  heartily 
glad  to  see  us.  So  many  recollections,  painful  and 
pleasurable,  crowded  and  pressed  upon  my  heart  during 
this  half-hour.  I  had  much  ado  to  talk,  but  I  did,1 
and  so  did  he,  —  of  forgeries  on  bank  notes,  no  way  he 
can  invent  of  avoiding  such  but  by  having  an  inspecting 
clerk  in  every  country  town.  Talked  over  the  commit- 
tee report  —  paper-marks,  vain  —  Tilloch  —  "  I  have  no 
great  opinion  of  his  abilities  —  Bramah  —  yes,  he  is  a 
clever  man,  but  set  down  this  for  truth:  no  man  is  so 
ingenious,  but  what  another  may  be  found  equally  in- 
genious. What  one  invents,  another  can  detect  and 
imitate. " 

Watt  is  at  this  moment  himself  the  best  encyclopaedia 
extant;  I  dare  not  attempt  to  tell  you  half  he  said;  it 
would  be  a  volume.  Chantrey  has  made  a  beautiful,  I 
mean  an  admirable,  bust  of  him.  Chantrey  and  Canova 
are  now  making  rival  busts  of  Washington. 

I  must  hop,  skip,  and  jump  as  I  can  from  subject  to 

subject.     Mr.  and  Mrs.  Moilliet  took  us  in  the  evening 

to   a  lecture  on  poetry,    by  Campbell,    who  has   been 

invited  by  a  Philosophical  Society  of  Birmingham  gen- 

i  Mr.  Watt  had  been  one  of  Mr.  Edgeworth's  most  intimate  friends. 


1819]  TO  MRS.    EDGEWORTH  277 

tlemen  to  give  lectures;  they  give  tickets  to  their 
friends.  Mr.  Corrie,  one  of  the  heads  of  this  society, 
was  proud  to  introduce  us.  Excellent  room,  with  gas 
spouting  from  tubes  below  the  gallery.  Lecture  good 
enough.  Mr.  Campbell  introduced  to  me  after  lecture; 
asked  very  kindly  for  Sneyd;  many  compliments.  Mr. 
Corrie  drank  tea,  after  the  lecture,  at  Mr.  Moilliet's  — 
very  agreeable  benevolent  countenance,  most  agreeable 
\oice.  We  liked  particularly  his  enthusiasm  for  Mr. 
Watt ;  he  gave  a  history  of  his  inventions,  and  instances 
of  Watt's  superiority  both  in  invention  and  magnanim- 
ity when  in  competition  with  others. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Moilliet  have  pressed  us  to  come  again. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Watt,  ditto,  ditto.  Mr.  Watt  almost 
with  tears  in  his  eyes;  and  I  was  ashamed  to  see  that 
venerable  man  standing  bareheaded  at  his  door  to  do  us 
the  last 1  honor,  till  the  carriage  drove  away. 

I  beg  your  pardon  for  going  backward  and  forward 
in  this  way  in  my  hurry-skurry.  I  leave  the  Stratford- 
upon-Avon,  and  Blenheim,  and  Woodstock  adventures, 
and  Oxford  to  Honora  and  Fanny,  whose  pens  have 
been  going  a  I'envie  I'une  de  I'autre ;  we  are  writing 
so  comfortably.  I  at  my  desk  with  a  table  to  myself, 
and  the  most  comfortable  little  black  stuffed  arm-chair. 
Fanny  and  Ho.  at  their  desks  and  table  near  the  fire. 

"We  must  have  two  pairs  of  snuffers." 

"Yes,  my  lady,  directly." 

So  now,  my  lady,  good-night;  for  I  am  tired,  a  little, 
just  enough  to  pity  the  civilest  and  prettiest  of  Swiss- 
looking  housemaids,  who  says  in  answer  to  my  "we 
shall  come  to  bed  very  soon,"  "Oh,  dear,  my  lady,  we 
i  It  was  the  last  Mr.  Watt  died  a  few  months  afterwards. 


278  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

bees  no  ways  particular  in  this  house  about  times  o' 
going  to  bed." 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON.. 
GBOVE  HOUSE,  KENSINGTON  GORE,  March,  1819. 

We  arrived  here  on  Saturday  last;  found  Lady  Eliza- 
beth Whitbread  more  kind  and  more  agreeable  than 
ever.  Her  kindness  to  us  is  indeed  unbounded,  and 
would  quite  overwhelm  me  but  for  the  delicate  and 
polite  manner  in  which  she  confers  favors,  more  as  if 
she  received  than  conferred  them.  Her  house,  her 
servants,  her  carriage,  her  horses,  are  not  only  entirely 
at  my  disposal,  but  she  had  the  good-natured  politeness 
to  go  down  to  the  door  to  desire  the  coachman  to  have 
George  Bristow  always  on  the  box  with  him,  as  the 
shaking  would  be  too  much  for  him  behind. 

Yesterday  we  spent  two  hours  at  Lady  Stafford's.  I 
had  most  agreeable  conversation  with  her  and  Lord 
Stafford,  while  Lady  Elizabeth  Gower  showed  the  pic- 
tures to  Honora  and  Fanny. 

Mr.  Talbot l  is  often  here,  I' ami  de  la  maison  and 
very  much  ours.  Lady  Grey,  Lady  Elizabeth's  mother, 
is  a  fine  amiable  old  lady.  Mr.  Ellice,  the  brother-in- 
law,  very  good-humored  and  agreeable.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Lefevre,  the  son-in-law  and  daughter,  very  agreeable, 
good,  and  happy.  I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that 
happiness  depends  upon  what  is  in  the  head  and  heart 
more  than  on  what  is  in  the  purse  or  the  bank,  or  on 
the  back  or  in  the  stomach.  There  must  be  enough  in 
the  stomach,  but  the  sauce  is  of  little  consequence.  By 
the  bye,  Lady  Elizabeth's  cook  is  said  to  be  the  best  in 
i  Son  of  Lady  Talbot  de  Malahide,  a  lawyer. 


1819]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  279 

England;  lived  with  her  in  the  days  of  her  prosperity, 
as  she  says,  and  has  followed  her  here. 

TO    THE    SAME. 

KENSINGTON  GORE,  March  24, 1819. 

I  have  a  moment  to  write  to  you,  and  I  will  use  it. 
We  are  going  on  just  as  when  I  last  wrote  to  you.  We 
began  by  steadily  settling  that  we  would  not  go  out  to 
any  dinner  or  evening  parties,  because  we  could  not  do 
so  without  giving  up  Lady  Elizabeth's  society;  she 
never  goes  out  but  to  her  relations.  The  mornings  she 
spends  in  her  own  apartments,  and  when  we  had  refused 
all  invitations  to  dinner  our  friends  were  so  kind  as  to 
contrive  to  see  us  at  our  own  hours;  to  breakfast  or 
luncheon. 

Twice  with  Lady  Lansdowne  —  luncheon ;  found  her 
with  her  children  just  the  same  as  at  Bowood. 

Miss  Fanshawe's —  breakfast;  Lord  Glenbervie  there, 
very  agreeable;  much  French  and  Italian  literature  — 
beautiful  drawings,  full  of  genius  —  if  there  be  such  a 
thing  allowed  by  practical  education. 

Three  breakfasts  at  dear  Mrs.  Marcet's;  the  first 
quite  private;  the  second  literary,  very  agreeable;  Doc- 
tor Holland,  Mr.  Wishaw,  Captain  Beaufort,  Mr.  Mal- 
let, Lady  Yonge;  third,  Mr.  Mill  —  British  India  — 
was  the  chief  figurante  ;  not  the  least  of  &  figurante 
though,  excellent  in  sense  and  benevolence. 

Twice  at  Mr.  Wilberforce's;  he  lives  next  door  to 
Lady  Elizabeth  Whitbread;  there  we  met  Mr.  Buxton 
—  admirable  facts  from  him  about  Newgate  and  Spital- 
fields  weavers.  One  fact  I  was  very  sorry  to  learn,  that 
Mrs.  Fry,  that  angel  woman,  was  very  ill. 


280  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MARCH 

Breakfast  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hope  —  quite  alone  — 
he  showed  the  house  to  Honora  and  Fanny  while  I  sat 
with  Mrs.  Hope. 

On  St.  Patrick's  Day,  by  appointment  to  the  Duchess 
of  Wellington,  nothing  could  be  more  like  Kitty  Paken- 
ham:  a  plate  of  shamrocks  on  the  table,  and  as  she 
came  forward  to  meet  me,  she  gave  a  bunch  to  me, 
pressing  my  hand  and  saying  in  a  low  voice  with  her 
sweet  smile,  "Vous  en  etes  digne."  She  asked  indivi- 
dually for  all  her  Irish  friends.  I  showed  to  her  what 
was  said  in  my  father's  life,  and  by  me,  of  Lord  Long- 
ford, and  the  drawing  of  his  likeness,  and  asked  if  his 
family  would  be  pleased;  she  spoke  very  kindly,  — 
"would  do  her  father's  memory  honor;  could  not  but 
please  every  Pakenham."  She  was  obliging  in  direct- 
ing her  conversation  easily  to  my  sisters  as  well  as  to 
myself.  She  said  she  had  purposely  avoided  being 
acquainted  with  Madame  de  Stael  in  England,  not 
knowing  how  she  might  be  received  by  the  Bourbons, 
to  whom  the  Duchess  was  to  be  Ambassadress.  She 
found  that  Madame  de  Stael  was  well  received  at  the 
Bourbon  Court,  and  consequently  she  must  be  received 
at  the  Duke  of  Wellington's.  She  arrived,  and  walk- 
ing up  in  full  assembly  to  the  Duchess,  with  the  fire  of 
indignation  flashing  in  her  eyes:  — 

"Eh!     Madame    la   Duchesse,    vous   ne   voulez    pas 
done  faire  ma  connaissance  en  Angleterre  1 " 
"Non,  Madame,  je  ne  le  voulais  pas." 
"Eh!  comment,  Madame?     Pourquoi  done  1 " 
"C'est  que  je  vous  craigniais,  Madame." 
"  Vous  me  craignez,  Madame  la  Duchesse  ? " 
"Non,  Madame,  je  ne  vous  crains  plus." 


1819]  TO  MISS   RUXTON  281 

Madame  de  Stael  threw  her  arms  round  her:  "Ah! 
je  vous  adore !  " 

I  must  end  abruptly.  No;  I  have  one  minute  more. 
While  we  were  at  the  Duchess  of  Wellington's  a  jewel- 
ler's man  came  in  with  some  bracelets;  one  was  a  shell 
like  your  Roman  shell  cameo,  of  the  Duke's  head,  of 
which  she  was  correcting  the  profile.  She  showed  us 
pictures  of  her  sons,  and  Fanny  sketched  from  them 
while  we  sat  with  her.  We  saw  in  the  hall,  or  rather 
in  the  corner  of  the  staircase,  Canova's  gigantic  "Apollo- 
Buonaparte,  "  which  was  sent  from  France  to  the  Kegent, 
who  gave  it  to  the  Duke.  It  is  ten  feet  high,  but  I 
could  not  judge  of  it  where  it  is  cooped  up  —  shock- 
ingly ill-placed. 

Sunday  —  Lady  Harrowby's  by  invitation,  as  it  is 
Lord  Harrowby's  only  holiday.  Mr.  Ellis,  a  young 
man,  just  entered  Parliament,  from  whom  great  things 
are  expected.  Mr.  Wilmot,  and  Mr.  Frere  —  Lady 
Ebrington  and  Lady  Mary  Eyder  —  Lord  Harrowby, 
most  agreeable  conversation.  Folding  doors  thrown 
open.  The  Duke  of .  Post  —  letter  must  go. 

TO    MISS    BUXTON. 

DUCHESS  STREET,  MRS.  HOPE'S, 
April  2, 1819. 

I  left  off  abruptly  just  as  the  folding  doors  were 
thrown  open,  and  the  Duke  of  Wellington  was  an- 
nounced in  such  an  unintelligible  manner  that  I  did  not 
know  what  Duke  it  was,  nor  did  I  know  till  we  got 
into  the  carriage  who  it  was  —  he  looks  so  old  and 
wrinkled.  I  never  should  have  known  him  from  like- 
ness to  bust  or  picture.  His  manner  is  very  agreeable, 


282  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [  APRIL 

perfectly  simple  and  dignified.  He  said  only  a  few 
words,  but  listened  to  some  literary  conversation  that 
was  going  on,  as  if  he  was  amused,  laughing  once  very 
heartily.  Remind  me  to  tell  you  some  circumstances 
about  Adele  de  Senange  which  Lord  Harrowby  told  me, 
and  two  expressions  of  Madame  de  Stael's  —  "  On  ddpose 
fleur  a  fleur  la  couronne  de  la  vie, "  1  and  "  Le  silence  est 
1'antichambre  de  la  mort." 

Mr.  Hope  is  altered,  and  he  has  in  his  whole  appear- 
ance the  marks  of  having  suffered  much.  The  contrast 
between  his  and  Mrs.  Hope's  depression  of  spirits,  and 
the  magnificence  of  everything  about  them,  speaks  vol- 
umes of  moral  philosophy. 

They  were  even  more  kind  than  I  expected  in  their 
manner  of  receiving  us.  One  large  drawing-room  Mr. 
Hope  gave  us  for  the  reception  of  our  friends.  Mrs. 
Hope  had  not  since  her  coming  to  town  had  a  dinner 
party,  but  she  assembled  all  the  people  she  thought  we 
might  like  to  see.  One  day  Miss  Fanshawe;  another 
day  the  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Bedford,  Lord  Palmer- 
ston,  Lord  and  Lady  Darnley,  and  Mr.  Ellis;  Lady 
Darnley  was  very  kind,  just  what  she  was  when  I  saw 
her  before.  Lady  Jersey  is  particularly  agreeable,  and 
was  particularly  obliging  to  us,  and  gave  us  tickets  for 
the  French  play,  now  one  of  the  London  objects  of 
curiosity.  The  Duchess  of  Bedford  talked  much  to  me, 
and  very  agreeably,  of  her  travels. 

1  Maria  had  quoted  this  expression  with  admiration  to  Lord  Harrowby, 
objecting  to  a  criticism  of  it  by  M.  Dumont,  "d'abord  la  vie  n'a  pas  de 
couronne."     To  which  Lord  Harrowby  replied  by  quoting  Johnson's 
"  Year  follows  year,  decay  pursues  decay, 

Still  drops  from  life  some  withering  joy  away." 

It  was  to  this  conversation  that  the  Duke  of  Wellington  listened  with 
smiling  attention. 


I 
1819]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  283 

Mrs.  Hope  was  so  exhausted  by  the  effort  of  seeing 
all  these  people  that  she  could  not  sleep,  and  looked 
wretchedly  the  next  day,  when  nobody  was  at  dinner 
but  her  own  sister  and  Captain  Beaufort.  Next  day, 
Lady  Tankerville  and  her  daughter,  Lady  Mary  Bennet, 
came  and  sat  half  an  hour. 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

KENSINGTON  GORE,  April  28,  1819. 

We  spent  ten  days  delightfully  with  the  kind  Hopes 
at  Deepdene,  and  a  most  beautiful  place  it  is.  The 
valley  of  Dorking  is  so  beautiful  that  even  Rasselas 
would  not  have  desired  to  escape  from  that  happy  val- 
ley. Fanny  was  well  enough  to  enjoy  everything, 
especially  some  rides  on  a  stumbling  pony  with  Henry 
Hope,  a  fine  boy  of  eleven,  well  informed,  and  very 
good-natured.  We  went  to  see  Norbury  Park,  Mr. 
Locke's  place,  and  Wotton,  Mr.  Evelyn's,  and  a  beau- 
tiful cottage  of  Mrs.  Hibbert's,  of  all  which  I  shall 
have  much  to  say  to  you  on  my  own  little  stool  at  your 
feet. 

We  were  received  on  our  return  here  with  affection- 
ate kindness  by  Lady  Elizabeth  Whitbread. 

Remember  that  I  don't  forget  to  tell  you  of  Lady 
Bredalbane's  having  been  left  in  her  carriage  fast  asleep, 
and  rolled  into  the  coach-house  of  an  hotel  at  Florence 
and  nobody  missing  her  for  some  time,  and  how  they 
went  to  look  for  her,  and  how  ever  so  many  carriages 
had  been  rolled  in  after  hers,  and  how  she  wakened, 
and  —  I  must  sign  and  seal. 


284  MAEIA  EDGEWOETH  [JULY 

EDGEWOKTHSTOWN,   July  7,  1819. 

At  Longford  last  Sunday  we  heard  an  excellent  ser- 
mon by  a  Mr.  McLelland,  the  first  he  ever  preached;  a 
terrible  brogue,  but  full  of  sense  and  spirit.  Some  odd 
faults  —  quoting  the  "Quarterly  Review  "  —  citing 
Hogarth's  " Idle  Apprentice  "  —  "the  Roman  poet  tells 
us, "  etc. ;  but  it  was  altogether  new  and  striking,  and 
contained  such  a  fine  address  to  the  soldiers  present  on 
the  virtues  of  peace,  after  the  triumphs  of  war,  as 
touched  every  heart.  The  soldiers  all  with  one  accord 
looked  up  to  the  preacher  at  the  best  passages. 

TO    MRS.     SNEYD    EDGEWORTH,    AT    PARIS. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  September  15, 1819. 

I  rejoice  that  you  and  Sneyd  are  well  enough  to 
enjoy  the  pleasures  of  Paris.  I  do  not  know  what 
Sneyd  can  have  done  to  make  Madame  Re'camier  laugh; 
in  my  time  she  never  went  beyond  the  smile  prescribed 
by  Lord  Chesterfield  as  graceful  in  beauty. 

This  last  week  we  have  had  the  pleasure  of  having 
our  kind  friends  Mrs.  and  Miss  Carr.  Except  the  first 
day,  which  was  Irish  rainy,  every  day  has  been  sun- 
shiny, and  my  mother  has  taken  advantage  of  the 
shrievalty  four  horses  and  two  yellow  jackets  to  drive 
about.  They  went  to  Baronston,  where  there  is  a  link 
of  connection  with  the  Carrs  through  an  English  friend, 
Mrs.  Benyon.  Lady  Sunderlin  and  Miss  Catherine  Ma- 
lone  did  the  joint  honors  of  their  house  most  amiably, 
and  gave  as  fine  a  collation  of  grapes,  nectarines,  and 
peaches  as  France  could  supply. 

Another  morning  we  took  a  tour  of  the  tenants. 
Hugh  Kelly's  house  and  parlor  and  gates  and  garden, 


1819]  TO  MISS  RUXTON  285 

and  all  that  should  accompany  a  farmhouse,  as  nice  as 
any  England  could  afford.  James  Allen,  though  grown 
very  old,  and  in  a  forlorn  black  shag  wig,  looked  like  a 
respectable  yeoman,  "the  country's  pride,"  and  at  my 
instance  brought  out  as  fine  a  group  of  grandchildren  as 
ever  graced  a  cottage  lawn. 

In  driving  home  at  the  cross-roads  by  Corbey  we  had 
the  good  fortune  to  come  in  for  an  Irish  dance,  the 
audience  or  spectators  seated  on  each  side  of  the  road 
on  opposite  benches;  all  picturesque  in  the  sunshine 
of  youth  and  age,  with  every  variety  of  attitude  and 
expression  of  enjoyment.  The  dancers,  in  all  the 
vivacity  and  graces  of  an  Irish  jig,  delighted  our  Eng- 
lish friends;  and  we  stood  up  in  the  landau  for  nearly 
twenty  minutes  looking  at  them. 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

October  14. 

We  have  been  much  interested  in  the  life  and  letters 
of  that  most  excellent,  amiable,  and  unpretending  Lady 
Kussell.1  There  are  touches  in  these  letters  which 
paint  domestic  happiness,  and  the  character  of  a  mother 
and  a  wife,  with  beautiful  simplicity.  I  even  like  Miss 
Berry  much  the  better  for  the  manner  in  which  she  has 
edited  this  book. 

November  5. 

Have  you  the  fourth  number  of  "Modern  Voyages 
and  Travels,"  which  contains  Chateau vieux's  travels  in 
Italy  ?  I  have  been  so  much  delighted  with  it,  and  feel 

1  Lady  Rachel  Wriothesley,  second  daughter  of  Thomas  Earl  of 
Southampton,  who  married  (1)  Francis  Lord  Vaughan;  (2)  William 
Lord  Russell,  the  patriot,  beheaded  July  21,  1683. 


286  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [1819 

so  sure  of  its  transporting  my  aunt,  that  I  had  hardly 
read  the  last  words  before  I  was  going  to  pack  it  off 
post-haste  to  Black  Castle,  but  Prudence,  in  the  shape 
of  Honora,  in  a  lilac  tabinet  gown,  whispered,  "  Better 
wait  till  you  hear  whether  they  have  read  it." 

Have  I  mentioned  to  you  Bassompiere's  "Memoirs"? 
a  new  edition,  with  notes  by  Croker,  which  make  the 
pegs  on  which  they  hang  gay  and  valuable.  What  an 
extraordinary  collection  of  strange  facts  and  strange 
thoughts  are  dragged  together  in  the  "Quarterly  Re- 
view," of  the  Cemeteries  and  Catacombs  of  Paris;  the 
Jewish  "House  of  the  Living;"  the  excommunicated 
skeletons  coming  into  the  church  to  parley  with  the 
Bishop;  and  the  Parisian  sentimentalist  in  the  country 
who  sent  for  barrels  of  ink  from  Paris  to  put  his  trees 
in  mourning  for  the  death  of  his  mother ;  and  the  foun- 
tain, called  the  weeping  eye,  for  the  death  of  his  wife, 
by  the  Dane.  I  hope,  my  dear  friends,  that  you  have 
been  reading  these  things,  and  that  they  have  struck  you 
as  they  did  me;  there  are  few  things  pleasanter  than 
these  "jumping  thoughts." 

Now  that  I  have  a  little  time,  and  eyes  to  read  again, 
I  find  it  delightful,  and  I  have  a  voracious  appetite,  and 
a  relish  for  food,  good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  I  am  afraid, 
like  a  half-famished,  shipwrecked  wretch. 

28th. 

Such  a  scene  of  lying  and  counter-lying  as  we  have 
had  with  the  cook  and  her  accuser,  the  kitchen  maid ! 
The  cook  was  dismissed  on  the  spot.  One  expression 
of  Peggy  Tuite's  I  must  tell  you  —  with  her  indignant 
figure  of  truth  defending  herself  against  falsehood  — 


1820]  TO  MISS  RUXTON  287 

when  Eose,  the  vile  public  accuser,  said,  in  part  of  her 
speech,  recollecting  from  Peggy  Tuite's  dress,  who  came 
clean  from  chapel,  that  it  was  Sunday,  "And  it's  two 
masses  I  have  lost  by  you  already!"  to  which  Peggy 
replied,  "Oh,  Eose,  the  mass  is  in  the  heart,  not  in  the 
chapel!  Only  speak  the  truth." 

Maria's  steadiness  in  resting  her  eyes,  neither  reading 
nor  writing  for  nearly  two  years,  was  rewarded  by  their 
complete  recovery;  and  she  was  able  to  read,  write,  and 
work  with  ease  and  comfort  all  the  rest  of  her  life. 

This  autumn  of  1819  she  was  made  happy  by  the 
return  of  the  two  Miss  Sneyds 1  from  England  to  Edge- 
worthstown,  where  with  short  intervals  they  continued 
to  reside  as  long  as  they  lived. 

TO    MISS    RUXTON. 

EDGEWORTHSTOWN,  January  1, 1820. 

Have  you  seen  a  life  of  Madame  de  Stae'l  by  that 
Madame  Necker  de  Saussure,  of  whom  Madame  de 
Stae'l  said,  when  some  one  asked,  "What  sort  of  woman 
is  she? "  "Elle  a  tous  les  talents  qu'on  me  suppose,  et 
toutes  les  vertus  qui  me  manquent."  Is  not  that  touch- 
ing and  beautiful  ? 

January  14. 

Poor  Kitty  Billamore  breathed  her  last  this  morning 
at  one  o'clock.  A  more  faithful,  warm-hearted,  excel- 
lent creature  never  existed.  How  many  successions  of 
children  of  this  family  she  has  nursed,  and  how  many 

*  Sisters  of  her  two  former  stepmothers,  the  second  and  third  wives  of 
B.  L.  Edgeworth. 


288  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [APRIL 

she  has  attended  in  illness  and  death,  regardless  of  her 
own  health!  I  am  glad  that  sweet,  dear  little  feeling 
Francis,  her  darling,  was  spared  heing  here  at  her 
death.  Harriet,  who,  next  to  him,1  had  always  been  a 
great  favorite,  was  with  her  to  the  last.  All  the  poor 
people  loved  her,  and  will  long  feel  her  loss.  Lovell2 
intends  that  she  should  be  buried  in  the  family  vault, 
as  she  deserves,  for  she  was  more  a  friend  than  a  ser- 
vant, and  he  will  attend  her  funeral  himself. 

Having  finished  the  memoirs  of  her  father's  life,  and 
settled  that  it  should  be  published  at  Easter,  Maria 
determined  to  indulge  herself  in  what  she  had  long  pro- 
jected —  a  visit  to  Paris  with  two  of  her  young  sis- 
ters, Fanny  and  Harriet.  They  set  out  on  the  3d  of 
April. 

TO    MISS    LUCY   EDGEWORTH. 

DUBLIN,  April  10, 1820. 

In  my  letter  to  my  mother  of  the  8th  I  forgot  —  no, 
I  had  not  time  to  say  that  we  had  a  restive  mare  at 
Dunshaughlin,  who  paid  me  for  all  I  ever  wrote  about 
Irish  posting,  and  put  me  in  the  most  horrible  and 
reasonable  apprehension  that  she  would  have  broken  my 
aunt's  carriage  to  pieces  against  the  corner  of  a  wall. 
The  crowd  of  people  that  assembled,  the  shouts,  the 
"never  fears,"  the  scolding  of  the  landlord  and  postil- 
ions, and  the  group  surveying  the  scene,  was  beyond 
anything  I  could  or  can  paint.  The  stage  coach  drove 

1  Francis  and  Harriet,  children  of  the  fourth  Mrs.  Edgeworth. 

2  Lovell,  only  son  of  the  second  Mrs.  Edge  worth  (Honora  Sneyd), 
who  had  succeeded  to  the  property. 


1820]  TO  MISS   HONOR  A  EDGEWORTH  289 

to  the  door  in  the  midst  of  it,  and  ladies  and  bandboxes 
stopped,  and  all  stood  to  gaze. 

There  was  also  a  professional  fool  in  his  ass  cart  with 
two  dogs,  one  a  white  little  curly  dog,  who  sat  upon 
the  ass's  head  behind  his  ears,  and  another  a  black, 
shaggy  mongrel,  with  longish  ears,  who  sat  up  in  a  beg- 
ging attitude  on  the  hinder  part  of  the  ass,  and  whom 
the  fool-knave  had  been  tutoring  with  a  broken  crutch, 
as  he  sat  in  his  covered  cart.  Fanny  made  a  drawing 
of  him,  and  he  and  his  dogs  sat  for  a  fivepenny,  which 
I  honestly  gave  him  for  his  and  his  dog's  tricks. 

Steamboats  had  only  begun  to  ply  between  Dublin 
and  Holyhead  in  1819,  and  Maria  Edgeworth's  first 
experience  of  a  steamboat  was  in  crossing  now  to  Holy- 
head.  She  disliked  the  jigging  motion,  which  she  said 
was  like  the  shake  felt  in  a  carriage  when  a  pig  is 
scratching  himself  against  the  hind  wheel  while  waiting 
at  an  Irish  inn  door. 

TO    MISS    HONORA    EDGEWORTH. 

MKS.  WATT'S,  HEATHFIELD,  April,  1820. 

I  was  much  surprised  at  finding  that  the  postilion 
who  drove  us  from  Wolverhampton  could  neither  tell 
himself,  nor  learn  from  any  one  up  the  road,  along  the 
heath,  at  the  turnpike,  or  even  in  the  very  suburbs  of 
Birmingham,  the  way  to  Mr.  Watt's!  I  was  as  much 
surprised  as  we  were  at  Paris  in  searching  for  Madame 
de  Genlis;  so  we  went  to  Mr.  Moilliet's,  and  stowed 
ourselves  next  day  into  their  traveling  landau,  as  large 
as  our  own  old,  old  delightful  coach,  and  came  here. 

Oh,  my  dear  Honora,  how  melancholy  to  see  places 


290  MARIA  EDGEWOKTH  [APKIL 

the  same  —  persons,  and  such  persons,  gone!  Mrs. 
Watt,  in  deep  mourning,  coming  forward  to  meet  us 
alone  in  that  gay  trellis,  the  same  books  on  his  table, 
his  picture,  his  bust,  his  image  everywhere,  himself 
nowhere  upon  this  earth.  Mrs.  Watt  has,  in  that  poor 
little  shattered  frame,  a  prodigiously  strong  mind ;  indeed 
she  could  not  have  been  so  loved  by  such  a  man  for 
such  a  length  of  time  if  she  had  not  superior  qualities. 
She  was  more  kind  than  I  can  express,  receiving  Fanny 
and  Harriet  as  if  they  had  been  of  her  own  family. 

In  the  morning  I  fell  to  penning  this  letter,  as  we 
were  engaged  to  breakfast  at  Mr.  James  Watt's,  at 
Aston  Hall.  You  remember  the  fine  old  brick  palace? 
Mr.  Watt  has  fitted  up  half  of  it  so  as  to  make  it  su- 
perbly comfortable;  fine  hall,  breakfast-room,  Flemish 
pictures,  Bolton  and  Watt  at  either  end.  After  break- 
fast, at  which  was  Mr.  Priestley,  an  American,  son  of 
Dr.  Priestley,  we  went  over  all  the  habitable  and  unin- 
habitable parts  of  the  house;  the  banqueting- room,  with 
a  most  costly,  frightful  ceiling,  and  a  chimney-piece 
carved  up  to  the  cornice  with  monsters,  one  with  a  nose 
covered  with  scales,  one  with  human  face  on  a  taran- 
tula's body.  Varieties  of  little  staircases,  and  a  garret 
gallery  called  Dick's  haunted  gallery;  a  blocked-up 
room  called  the  King's  room;  then  a  modern  dressing- 
room,  with  fine  tables  of  Bullock's  making,  one  of 
wood  from  Brazil  —  Zebra  wood  —  and  no  more  to  be 
had  of  it  for  love  or  money. 

But  come  on  to  the  great  gallery,  longer  than  that  at 
Sudbury,  —  about  one  hundred  and  thirty-six  feet  long, 
—  and  at  the  furthest  end  we  came  to  a  sort  of  oriel, 
separated  from  the  gallery  only  by  an  arch,  and  there 


1820]  TO  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  291 

the  white  marble  bust  of  the  great  Mr.  Watt  struck  me 
almost  breathless.  What  everybody  went  on  saying  I 
do  not  know,  but  my  own  thoughts,  as  I  looked  down 
the  closing  lines  of  this  superb  gallery,  now  in  a  half- 
ruined  state,  were  very  melancholy,  on  life  and  death, 
family  pride,  and  the  pride  of  wealth,  and  the  pride  of 
genius,  all  so  perishable. 

TO    MRS.    EDGEWORTH. 

CANTERBURY,  April  21. 

I  wrote  to  your  dear  father  the  history  of  our  visit  to 
Mr.  Wren's  at  Wroxall  Abbey,  and  Kenil worth,  and 
Warwick,  and  Stratford-upon-Avon,  and  our  pleasant 
three  hours  at  Oxford.  When  we  were  looking  at  the 
theatre,  Mr.  Biddulph  told  us,  that  when  all  the  Em- 
perors and  Kings  came  with  the  Regent,  the  theatre 
was  filled  in  every  part;  but  such  was  the  hush  you 
could  have  heard  a  phi  drop  till  the  Prince  put  his  foot 
upon  the  threshold,  when  the  whole  assembly  rose  with 
a  tremendous  shout  of  applause.  The  Prince  was  su- 
premely gratified,  and  said  to  the  Emperor  of  Russia, 
"  You  heard  the  London  mob  hoot  me,  but  you  see  how 
I  am  received  by  the  young  gentlemen  of  England ! " 

When  Lord  Grenville  was  installed  as  chancellor,  he 
was,  the  instant  he  took  his  seat,  assailed  with  loud 
hisses  and  groans.  Mr.  Biddulph  said  he  admired  the 
dignity  with  which  Lord  Grenville  behaved,  and  the 
presence  of  mind  of  the  Bishop  of  Peterborough  (Par- 
sons), who  said  in  Latin,  "  Either  this  disturbance  must 
instantly  cease,  or  I  dismiss  you  from  this  assembly ! " 
Dead  silence  ensued. 


292  MARIA.  EDGEWORTH  [APRIL 

PARIS,  PLACE  DU  PALAIS  BOURBON,  April  29. 

One  moment  of  reward  for  two  days  of  indescribable 
hurry  I  have  at  this  quiet  interval  after  breakfast,  and 
I  seize  it  to  tell  you  that  Fanny  is  quite  well;  so  far 
for  health.  For  beauty,  I  have  only  to  say  that  I  am 
told  by  everybody  that  my  sisters  are  lovely  in  English, 
and  charmante  in  French.  Last  night  was  their  debut 
at  Lady  Granard's  —  a  large  assembly  of  all  manner  of 
lords,  ladies,  counts,  countesses,  princes,  and  princesses, 
French,  Polish,  and  Italian;  Marmont  and  Humboldt 
were  there.  I  was  told  by  several  persons  of  rank  and 
taste  —  Lady  Eancliffe,  the  Countess  de  Salis,  Lady 
Granard,  Mrs.  Sneyd  Edgeworth,  and  a  Polish  Coun- 
tess, that  my  sister's  dress,  the  grand  affair  at  Paris, 
was  perfection,  and  I  believed  it!  Humboldt  is  exces- 
sively agreeable,  but  I  was  twice  taken  from  him  to  be 
introduced  to  grandeurs  just  as  we  had  reached  the  most 
interesting  point  of  conversation. 

May  3. 

On  Sunday  we  went  with  the  Countess  de  Salis  and 
the  Baronne  de  Salis,  who  is  also  Chanoinesse,  but  goes 
into  the  world  in  roses  and  pink  ribbons  nevertheless, 
and  is  very  agreeable,  moreover,  and  M.  le  Baron,  an 
officer  in  the  Swiss  Guards,  an  old  bachelor,  to  St. 
Sulpice,  to  hear  M.  Fressenus;  he  preached  in  the  Kir- 
wan  style,  but  with  intolerable  monotony  of  thumping 
eloquence,  against  les  Liberales,  Rousseau,  etc. ;  it 
seemed  to  me  old  stuff,  ill  embroidered,  but  it  was 
much  applauded.  Mem.  :  the  audience  were  not  half  so 
attentive  or  silent  at  St.  Sulpice  as  they  were  at  the 
Theatre  Franc.ais  the  night  before. 

After  Church  a  visit  to  Madame  de  Pastoret.     Oh, 


1820]  TO   MRS.   EDGEWORTH  293 

my  dear  mother,  think  of  my  finding  her  in  that  very 
boudoir,  everything  the  same !  Fanny  and  Harriet  were 
delighted  with  the  beauty  of  the  house  till  they  saw 
her,  and  then  nothing  could  be  thought  of  but  her 
manner  and  conversation.  They  are  even  more  charmed 
with  her  than  I  expected;  she  is  little  changed. 

After  a  ball  at  the  Polish  Countess  Orlowski's  (the 
woman  who  is  charmed  with  "Early  Lessons,"  etc.), 
where  Fanny  and  Harriet  were  delighted  with  the  chil- 
dren's dancing  —  they  waltzed  like  angels,  if  angels 
waltz  —  after  this  ball  I  went  with  the  Count  and 
Countess  de  Salis  and  La  Baronne  —  I  was  told  that 
the  first  time  it  must  be  without  my  sisters  —  to  the 
Duchesse  d'Escars,  who  receives  for  the  King  at  the 
Tuileries;  mounted  a  staircase  of  one  hundred  and  forty 
steps  —  I  thought  the  Count's  knees  would  have  failed 
while  I  leaned  on  his  arm;  my  own  ached.  A  long 
gallery,  well  lighted,  opened  into  a  suite  of  little  low 
apartments,  most  beautifully  hung,  some  with  silk  and 
some  with  cashmere,  some  with  tent  drapery,  with  end 
ottomans,  and  lamps  in  profusion.  These  rooms,  with 
busts  and  pictures  of  kings,  swarmed  with  old  nobility, 
with  historic  names,  stars,  red  ribbons,  and  silver  bells 
at  their  button-holes;  ladies  in  little  white  satin  hats 
and  toques,  with  a  profusion  of  ostrich  or,  still  better, 
marabout  powder- puff  feathers;  and  the  roofs  were  too 
low  for  such  lofty  heads. 

After  a  most  fatiguing  morning  at  all  the  impertinent 
and  pertinent  dressmakers  and  milliners,  we  finished  by 
the  dear  delight  of  dining  with  Madame  Gautier  at 
Passy.  The  drive  there  was  delicious;  we  found  her 
with  her  Sophie,  now  a  matron  mother  with  her  Caro- 


294  MARIA   EDGEWOR.TH  [MAY 

line,  like  what  Madame  Gautier  and  her  Sophie  were 
in  that  very  room  eighteen  years  ago.  All  the  Delessert 
family  that  remain  were  assembled  except  Benjamin, 
who  was  detained  by  business  in  Paris.  Madame 
Benjamin  is  very  handsome,  nearer  the  style  of  Mrs. 
Admiral  Pakenham  than  anybody  I  know;  Fra^ois  the 
same  as  you  saw  him,  only  with  the  additional  crow's- 
feet  of  eighteen  years,  sobered  into  a  husband  and 
father,  the  happiest  I  ever  saw  in  France.  They  have 
three  houses,  and  the  whole  three  terraces  form  one 
long  pleasure-ground.  Judas-tree,  like  a  Brobdingnag 
almond-tree,  was  in  full  flower;  lilacs  and  laburnums  in 
abundance.  Alexandre  Delessert  takes  after  the  father 
—  good,  sensible,  commercial  conversation.  He  made 
a  panegyric  on  the  Jews  of  Hamburg,  who  received 
him  at  their  houses  with  the  utmost  politeness  and  lib- 
erality. This  was  apropos  of  Walter  Scott's  Jewess, 
and,  vanity  must  add,  my  own  Jew  and  Jewess,  who 
came  in  for  more  than  their  due  share. 

Bank-notes  were  talked  of;  Fra^ois  tells  me  that 
the  forging  of  bank-notes  is  almost  unknown  at  Paris; 
the  very  best  artists  —  my  father's  plan  —  are  employed. 

Tuesday  we  were  at  the  Louvre;  many  fine  pictures 
left.  Dined  at  home;  in  the  evening  to  Madame  de 
Pastoret's,  to  meet  the  Duchesse  de  Broglie;  very  hand- 
some —  little,  with  large,  soft,  dark  eyes ;  simple  dress, 
winning  manner,  soft  Pastoret  conversation;  speaks 
English  better  than  any  foreigner  I  ever  heard;  not 
only  gracious,  but  quite  tender  to  me. 

After  Madame  de  Pastoret's  we  went  to  the  Ambas- 
sador's and  were  received  in  the  most  distinguished 
manner.  Crowds  of  fine  people;  we  saw  and  conversed 
with  Talleyrand,  but  he  said  nought  worth  hearing. 


1820]  TO  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  295 

May  20. 

Paris  is  wonderfully  embellished  since  we  were  here 
in  1803.  Fanny  and  Harriet  are  quite  enchanted  with 
the  beauty  of  the  Champs  E^ysdes  and  the  Tuileries 
gardens;  the  trees  are  out  in  full  leaf,  and  the  deep 
shade  under  them  is  delightful.  I  had  never  seen  Paris 
in  summer,  so  I  enjoy  the  novelty.  Some  of  our  hap- 
piest time  is  spent  in  driving  about  in  the  morning,  or 
returning  at  night  by  lamp  or  moonlight. 

Lady  Elizabeth  Stuart  has  been  most  peculiarly  civil 
to  "Madame  Maria  Edgeworth  et  Mesdemoiselles  ses 
soeurs,"  which  is  the  form  on  our  visiting  tickets,  as  I 
was  advised  it  should  be.  The  Ambassador's  Hotel  is 
the  same  which  Lord  Whitworth  had,  which  afterwards 
belonged  to  the  Princess  Borghese.  It  is  delightful! 
opening  into  a  lawn-garden,  with  terraces  and  conser- 
vatories, and  a  profusion  of  flowers  and  shrubs.  The 
dinner  was  splendid,  but  not  formal;  and  nobody  can 
represent  better  than  Lady  Elizabeth.  She  asked  us 
to  go  with  her  and  Mrs.  Canning  to  the  opera,  but  we 
were  engaged  to  Madame  Recamier;  and  as  she  is  no 
longer  rich  and  prosperous,  I  could  not  break  the  en- 
gagement. 

We  went  to  Madame  Ke'camier's,  in  her  convent, 
L'Abbaye  aux  Bois,  up  seventy-eight  steps;  all  came 
in  with  the  asthma;  elegant  room,  and  she  as  elegant 
as  ever.  Matthieu  de  Montmorenci,  the  ex-Queen  of 
Sweden,  Madame  de  Boigne  —  a  charming  woman,  and 
Madame  la  Mare'chale  de  Moreau  —  a  battered  beauty, 
smelling  of  garlic,  and  screeching  in  vain  to  pass  for  a 
wit. 

Yesterday  we  had  intended  to  have  killed  off  a  great 


296  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAY 

many  visits,  but  the  fates  willed  it  otherwise.  Mr. 
Hummelaur,  attached  to  the  Austrian  Embassy,  came; 
and  then  Mr.  Chenevix,  who  converses  delightfully, 
but  all  the  time  holding  a  distorting  magnifying  glass 
over  French  character,  and  showing  horrible  things 
where  we  thought  everything  was  delightful.  While 
he  was  here  came  Madame  de  Villeneuve  and  Madame 
de  Kergolay.  Scarcely  were  they  all  gone,  when  I 
desired  Rodolphe  to  let  no  other  person  in,  as  the 
carriage  had  been  ordered  at  eleven,  and  it  was  now 
near  two.  "  Miladi !  "  cried  Rodolphe,  running  in 
with  a  card,  "  voilk  une  dame  qui  me  dit  de  vous  faire 
voire  son  nom." 

It  was  "  Madame  de  Roquefeuille, "  with  her  bright, 
benevolent  eyes;  and  much  agreeable  conversation. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  difference  between  the  manners, 
tone,  pronunciation,  and  quietness  of  demeanor  of 
Madame  de  Pastoret,  Madame  de  Roquefeuille,  and  the 
little  old  Princess  de  Broglie  Revel,  old  nobility,  and 
the  striving,  struggling  of  the  new,  with  all  their  riches 
and  titles,  who  can  never  attain  this  indescribable,  in- 
communicable charm.  But  to  go  on  with  Saturday; 
Madame  de  Roquefeuille  took  leave,  and  we  caparisoned 
ourselves,  and  went  to  Lady  de  Ros.  She  was  at  her 
easel,  copying  very  well  a  portrait  of  Madame  de  Gri- 
gnan,  and  it  was  a  very  agreeable  half-hour.  Lady  de 
Ros  and  her  daughter  are  very  agreeable  people.  She 
has  asked  Fanny  to  meet  her  at  the  Riding-House  three 
times  a  week,  where  she  goes  to  take  exercise. 

We  were  engaged  to  Cuvier's  in  the  evening,  and 
went  first  to  M.  Jullien's,  in  the  Rue  de  VEnfer,  not 
far  from  the  Jardin  des  Plantes,  and  there  we  saw  one 


1820]  TO   MRS.   EDGE  WORTH  297 

^ 

of  the  most  extraordinary  of  all  the  extraordinary  per- 
sons we  have  seen  —  a  Spaniard,  squat,  black-haired, 
black-browed,  and  black-eyed,  with  an  infernal  counte- 
nance, who  has  written  the  history  of  the  Inquisition, 
and  who  related  to  us  how  he  had  been  sent  to  a  monas- 
tery en  penitence  by  the  Inquisition,  and  escaped  by 
presenting  a  certain  number  of  kilogrammes  of  good 
chocolate  to  the  monks,  who  represented  him  as  very 
penitent.  But  I  dare  not  say  more  of  this  man,  lest  we 
should  never  get  to  Cuvier's,  which,  in  truth,  I  thought 
we  never  should  accomplish  alive.  Such  streets!  such 
turns!  in  the  old,  old  parts  of  the  city;  lamps  strung 
at  great  distances;  a  candle  or  two  from  high  houses, 
making  darkness  visible;  then  bawling  of  coach  or  cart 
men,  "  Ouais !  ouais !  "  backing  and  scolding,  for  no  two 
carriages  could  by  any  possibility  pass  in  these  narrow 
alleys.  I  was  in  a  very  bad  way,  as  you  may  guess, 
but  I  let  down  the  glasses,  and  sat  as  still  as  a  fright- 
ened mouse;  once  I  diverted  Harriet  by  crying  out, 
"Ah,  mon  cher  cocher,  arretez;"  like  Madame  de 
Barri's,  "Un  moment,  Monsieur  le  Bourreau."  It 
never  was  so  bad  with  us  that  we  could  not  laugh.  At 
last  we  turned  into  a  porte-cochere,  under  which  the 
coachman  bent  literally  double;  total  darkness;  then 
suddenly  trees,  lamps,  and  buildings,  and  one,  brighter 
than  the  rest  by  an  open  portal,  illuminating  large 
printed  letters,  "Colldge  de  Prance." 

Cuvier  came  down  to  the  very  carriage  door  to  receive 
us,  and  handed  us  up  narrow,  difficult  stairs  into  a 
smallish  room,  where  were  assembled  many  ladies  and 
gentlemen  of  most  distinguished  names  and  talents. 
Prony,  as  like  an  honest  water-dog  as  ever;  Biot  ("et 


298  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAY 

moi  aussi  je  suis  pere  de  famille  ")  a  fat,  double  volume 
of  himself  —  I  could  not  see  a  trace  of  the  young  pere 
de  famille  we  knew  —  round-faced,  with  a  bald  head 
and  black  ringlets,  a  fine-boned  skull,  on  which  the 
tortoise  might  fall  without  cracking  it.  When  he  be^ 
gan  to  converse,  his  superior  ability  was  immediately 
apparent.  Then  Cuvier  presented  Prince  Czartorinski, 
a  Pole,  and  many  compliments  passed;  and  then  we 
went  to  a  table  to  look  at  Prince  Maximilian  de  Neuf- 
chatel's  "Journey  to  Brazil,"  magnificently  printed  in 
Germany,  and  all  tongues  began  to  clatter,  and  it  became 
wondrously  agreeable ;  and  behind  me  I  heard  English 
well  spoken,  and  this  was  Mr.  Trelawny,  and  I  heard 
from  him  a  panegyric  on  the  Abbe*  Edgeworth,  whom 
he  knew  well,  and  he  was  the  person  who  took  the  first 
letter  and  news  to  the  Duchesse  d'Angouleme  at  Mittau, 
after  she  quitted  France.  She  came  out  in  the  dead  of 
the  night  in  her  nightgown  to  receive  the  letter. 

Tea  and  supper  together;  only  two  thirds  of  the 
company  could  sit  down,  but  the  rest  stood  or  sat 
behind,  and  were  very  happy,  loud,  and  talkative; 
science,  politics,  literature,  and  nonsense  in  happy  pro- 
portions. Biot  sat  behind  Fanny's  chair,  and  talked  of 
the  parallax  and  Dr.  Brinkley.  Prony,  with  his  hair 
nearly  in  my  plate,  was  telling  me  most  entertaining 
anecdotes  of  Buonaparte ;  and  Cuvier,  with  his  head 
nearly  meeting  him,  talking  as  hard  as  he  could;  not 
striving  to  show  learning  or  wit  —  quite  the  contrary; 
frank,  open-hearted  genius,  delighted  to  be  together  at 
home,  and  at  ease.  This  was  the  most  flattering  and 
agreeable  thing  to  me  that  could  possibly  be.  Harriet 
was  on  the  off-side,  and  every  now  and  then  he  turned 


1820]  TO   MRS.   EDGEWORTH  299 

to  her  in  the  midst  of  his  anecdotes,  and  made  her  com- 
pletely one  of  us;  and  there  was  such  a  prodigious  noise 
nobody  could  hear  but  ourselves.  Both  Cuvier  and 
Prony  agreed  that  Buonaparte  never  could  bear  to  have 
any  answer  but  a  decided  answer.  "One  day,"  said 
Cuvier,  "I  nearly  ruined  myself  by  considering  before 
I  answered.  He  asked  me,  '  Faut-il  introduire  le  sucre 
debetterave  en  France? '  '  D'abord,  Sire,  il  faut  songer 
si  vos  colonies  —  '  '  Faut-il  avoir  le  sucre  de  betterave 
en  France  1 '  'Mais,  Sire,  il  faut  examiner  —  '  '  Bah ! 
je  le  demanderai  k  Berth  ollet. ' ' 

This  despotic,  laconic  mode  of  insisting  on  learning 
everything  in  two  words  had  its  inconveniences.  One 
day  he  asked  the  master  of  the  woods  at  Fontainebleau, 
"How  many  acres  of  wood  here?"  The  master,  an 
honest  man,  stopped  to  recollect.  "  Bah ! "  and  the 
under-master  came  forward  and  said  any  number  that 
came  into  his  head.  Buonaparte  immediately  took  the 
mastership  from  the  first,  and  gave  it  to  the  second. 
"Qu'arrivait-il? "  continued  Prony;  "the  rogue  who 
gave  the  guess  answer  was  soon  found  cutting  down  and 
selling  quantities  of  the  trees,  and  Buonaparte  had  to 
take  the  rangership  from  him,  and  reinstate  the  honest 
hesitater. " 

Prony  is,  you  know,  one  of  the  most  absent  men 
alive.  "Once,"  he  told  me,  "I  was  in  a  carriage  with 
Buonaparte  and  General  Caffarelli;  it  was  at  the  time 
he  was  going  to  Egypt.  He  asked  me  to  go.  I  said 
I  could  not;  that  is,  I  would  not;  and  when  I  had  said 
those  words  I  fell  into  a  reverie,  collecting  in  my  own 
head  all  the  reasons  I  could  for  not  going  to  Egypt. 
All  this  time  Buonaparte  was  going  on  with  some  confi- 


300  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [MAY 

dential  communication  to  me  of  his  secret  intentions  and 
views;  and  when  it  was  ended,   le  seul  mot,   Arabic, 
m'avait   frappe"    1'oreille.     Alois,   je   voudrais   m'avoir 
arrache'  les  cheveux,"  making   the   motion   so   to  do, 
"pour  pouvoir  me  rapeller  ce  qui'l  venait  de  me  dire. 
But  I  never  could  recall  one  single  word  or  idea." 
"Why  did  you  not  ask  Caffarelli  afterwards? " 
"I  dared  not,  because  I  should  have  betrayed  myself 
to  him." 

Prony  says  that  Buonaparte  was  not  obstinate  in  his 
own  opinion  with  men  of  science  about  those  things  of 
which  he  was  ignorant;  but  he  would  bear  no  contradic- 
tion in  tactics  or  politics. 

May  29. 

Madame  Re'camier  has  no  more  taken  the  veil  than  I 
have,  and  is  as  little  likely  to  do  it.  She  is  still  beau- 
tiful, still  dresses  herself  and  her  little  room  with  ele- 
gant simplicity,  and  lives  in  a  convent l  only  because  it 
is  cheap  and  respectable.  M.  Re'camier  is  living;  they 
have  not  been  separated  by  anything  but  misfortune. 

We  have  at  last  seen  a  comedy  perfectly  well  acted 
—  the  first  representation  of  a  new  piece,  "Les  Follicu- 
laires ; "  it  was  received  with  thunders  of  applause, 
admirably  acted  in  every  character  to  the  life.  It  was 
in  ridicule  of  journalists  and  literary  young  men. 

LA  CELLE,  M.  DE  VINDE'S  COUNTRY  HOUSE, 
June  4. 

Is  it  not  curious  that,  just  when  you  wrote  to  us,  all 

full  of  Mrs.   Strickland  at  Edgeworthstown,  we  should 

have  been  going  about  everywhere  with  Mr.  Strickland 

at  Paris?     I  read  to  him  what  you  said  about  his  little 

1  The  Abbaye  aux  Bois. 


1820]  TO  MES.   EDGEWORTH  301 

girl  and  Foster,  as  he  was  going  with  us  to  a  breakfast 
at  Cuvier's,  and  he  was  delighted  even  to  tears. 

We  breakfasted  at  Passy  on  our  way  here;  beautiful 
views  of  Paris  and  its  environs  from  all  the  balconied 
rooms;  and  Madame  Fra^ois  showed  us  all  their  de- 
lightful comfortable  rooms  —  the  bed  in  which  Madame 
Gautier  and  Madame  Fra^ois  had  slept  when  children, 
and  where  now  her  little  Caroline  sleeps.  There  is 
something  in  the  duration  of  these  family  attachments 
which  pleases  and  touches  one,  especially  in  days  of 
revolution  and  change. 

We  arrived  here  in  good  time.  La  Celle 1  is  as  old 
as  Clotwold,  the  son  of  Clovis,  who  came  here  to  make 
a  hermitage  for  himself  —  La  Cellule.  Wonderfully 
changed  and  enlarged,  it  became  the  residence  of 
Madame  de  Pompadour.  The  rooms  are  wainscoted; 
very  large  croisees  open  upon  shrubberies,  with  rose 
acacias  and  rhododendrons  in  profuse  flower;  the  garden 
is  surrounded  by  lime-trees  thick  and  high,  and  cut, 
like  the  beech-walk  at  Collon,  at  the  end  into  arches 
through  the  foliage,  and  the  stems  left  so  as  to  form 
rows  of  pillars,  through  which  you  see,  on  one  side,  fine 
views  of  lawn  and  distant  country,  while  on  the  other 
the  lime-grove  is  continued  in  arcades,  eight  or  nine 
trees  deep. 

To  each  bedroom  and  dressing-room  there  are  little 
dens  of  closets  and  ante-chambers,  which  must  have 
seen  many  strange  exits  and  entrances  in  their  day.  In 
one  of  these,  ten  feet  by  six,  the  white  wainscot  —  now 

i  La  Celle  St.  Cloud,  built  by  Bachelier,  first  valet  de  chanibre  of 
Louis  XIV.,  afterwards  sold  to  Madame  de  Pompadour,  who  sold  it 
;ii;uiu  in  two  years. 


302  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JUNE 

very  yellow  —  is  painted  in  gray,  with  monkeys  in  men 
and  women's  clothes  in  groups  in  compartments,  the 
most  grotesque  figures  you  can  imagine.  I  have  an 
idea  of  having  read  of  this  cabinet  of  monkeys,  and 
having  heard  that  the  principal  monkey  who  figures  in 
it  was  some  real  personage. 

The  situation  of  La  Celle  is  beautiful,  and  the  coun- 
try about  it.  The  grounds,  terraces,  orchards,  farm- 
yard, dairy,  etc.,  would  lead  me  too  far,  so  I  shall  only 
note  that,  to  preserve  the  hayrick  from  the  incursion  of 
rats,  the  feet  of  the  stand,  which  is  higher  than  that  in 
our  back  yard,  are  not  only  slated,  but  at  the  part  next 
the  hay  covered  with  panes  of  glass ;  this  defies  climb- 
ing reptiles. 

M.  and  Madame  de  Vinde'  are  exactly  what  you 
remember  them;  and  her  granddaughter,  Beatrice,  the 
little  girl  you  may  remember,  is  as  kind  to  Fanny  and 
Harriet  as  M.  and  Madame  de  Vindd  were  to  their 
sister. 

Mr.  Hutton  wrote  to  me  about  a  certain  Count  Bren- 
nar,  a  German  or  Hungarian  —  talents,  youth,  fortune 

—  assuring  me   that  this  transcendental   Count  had    a 
great  desire  to  be  acquainted  with  us.      I  fell  to  work 
with  Madame  Cuvier,  with  whom  I  knew  he  was  ac- 
quainted, and  he  met  us  at  breakfast  at  Cuvier's;  and 
I  asked  Prony  if  M.  and  Madame  de  Vindd  would  allow 
me  to  ask  the  Count  to  come  here;  and  so  yesterday 
Prony  came  to  dinner,  and  the  Count  at  dessert,  and  he 
ate  cold  cutlets  and  good  salad,  and  all  was  right;  and 
whenever  any  of  our  family  go  to  Vienna,  he  gave  me 
and  mine,  or  yours,  a  most  pressing  invitation  thither 

—  which  will  never  be  any  trouble  to  him. 


1820]  TO  MRS.   EDGE  WORTH  303 

I  have  corrected  before  breakfast  here  all  of  the 
second  volume  of  "Rosamond,"1  which  accompanies 
this  letter.  We  have  coffee  brought  to  us  in  our  rooms 
about  eight  o'clock,  and  the  family  assemble  at  break- 
fast in  the  dining-room  about  ten;  this  breakfast  has 
consisted  of  mackerel  stewed  in  oil;  cutlets;  eggs, 
boiled  and  poached,  au  jus ;  peas  stewed ;  lettuce 
stewed,  and  rolled  up  like  sausages;  radishes;  salad; 
stewed  prunes;  preserved  gooseberries;  chocolate  bis- 
cuits; apricot  biscuits  —  that  is  to  say,  a  kind  of  flat 
tartlet,  sweetmeat  between  paste ;  finishing  with  coffee. 
There  are  sugar-tongs  in  this  house,  which  I  have  seen 
nowhere  else  except  at  Madame  Gautier's.  Salt-spoons 
never  to  be  seen,  so  do  not  be  surprised  at  seeing  me 
take  salt  and  sugar  in  the  natural  way  when  I  come 
back. 

Carriages  come  round  about  twelve,  and  we  drive 
about  seeing  places  in  the  neighborhood  —  afterwards 
go  to  our  own  rooms  or  to  the  salon,  or  play  billiards 
or  chess.  Dinner  is  at  half- past  five;  no  luncheon  and 
no  dressing  for  dinner.  I  will  describe  one  dinner  — 
Bouilli  de  boeuf  —  large  piece  in  the  middle,  and  all  the 
other  dishes  round  it  —  rotie  de  mouton  —  ris  de  veau 
pique*  —  maquereaux  —  pates  de  cervelle  —  salad.  2d 
service;  oeufs  aux  jus  —  petits  pois  —  lettuce  stewed  — 
gateaux  de  confitures  —  prunes.  Dessert;  gateaux, 
cerises,  confiture  d'abricot  et  de  groseille. 

Hands  are  washed  at  the  side-table;  coffee  is  in  the 

saloon ;  men  and  women  all  gathering  round  the  table  as 

of  yore.      But  I  should  observe  that  a  great  change  has 

taken  place;  the  men  huddle  together  now  in  France  as 

1  The  sequel,  or  last  part  of  Rosamond. 


804  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JUNE 

they  used  to  do  in  England,  talking  politics  with  their 
backs  to  the  women  in  a  corner,  or  even  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  without  minding  them  in  the  least,  and 
the  ladies  complain  and  look  very  disconsolate,  and  many 
ask  if  this  be  Paris,  and  others  scream  ultra  nonsense  or 
liberal  nonsense,  to  make  themselves  of  consequence 
and  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  gentlemen. 

But  to  go  on  with  the  history  of  our  day.  After 
coffee,  Madame  de  Vinde  sits  down  at  a  round  table  in 
the  middle  of  the  room,  and  out  of  a  work-basket,  which 
is  just  the  shape  of  an  antediluvian  work-basket  of 
mine,  made  of  orange-paper  and*  pasteboard,  which  lived 
long  in  the  garret,  she  takes  her  tapestry  work:  a  chair 
cover  of  which  she  works  the  little  blue  flowers,  and 
M.  Morel  de  Vindd,  pair  de  France,  ancien  Conseiller 
de  Parlement,  etc.,  does  the  ground!  He  has  had  a 
cold,  and  wears  a  black  silk  handkerchief  on  his  head 
and  a  hat  over  it  in  the  house ;  three .  waistcoats,  two 
coats,  and  a  spencer  over  all.  Madame  de  Vindd  and  I 
talk,  and  the  young  people  play  billiards. 

When  it  grows  duskish  we  all  migrate  at  a  signal 
from  Madame  de  Vinde,  "Allons,  nous  passerons  chez 
M.  de  Vindd ; "  so  we  all  cross  the  billiard-room  and 
dining-room,  and  strike  off  by  an  odd  passage  into  M. 
de  Vindd 's  study,  where,  almost  in  the  fire,  we  sit 
round  a  small  table  playing  a  game  called  loto,  with 
different  colored  pegs  and  collars  for  these  pegs,  and 
whoever  knows  the  game  of  loto  will  understand  what 
it  is,  and  those  who  have  never  heard  of  it  must  wait 
till  I  come  home  to  make  them  understand  it.  At  half- 
past  ten  to  bed;  a  dozen  small  round  silver-handled 
candlesticks,  bougeoirs,  with  wax  candles  ready  for  us. 


1820]  TO  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  305 

Who  dares  to  say  French  country  houses  have  no  com- 
forts ?  Let  all  such  henceforward  except  La  Celle. 

The  three  first  days  we  were  here  M.  de  Prony  and 
Count  Brennar  were  the  only  guests,  the  Count  only  for 
one  day.  M.  de  Prony  is  enough  without  any  other 
person  to  keep  the  most  active  mind  in  conversation 
of  all  sorts,  scientific,  literary,  humorous.  He  is  less 
changed  than  any  of  our  friends.  His  humor  and  good- 
humor  are  really  delightful;  he  is,  as  Madame  de  Vinde' 
says,  the  most  harmless  good  creature  that  ever  existed; 
and  he  has  had  sense  enough  to  stick  to  science  and 
keep  clear  of  politics,  always  pleading  "qu'il  n'e'tait 
bon  qu'k  cela."  He  accompanied  us  in  our  morning 
excursions  to  Malmaison  and  St.  Germain. 

Malmaison  was  Josephine's,  and  is  still  Beauharnais's 
property,  but  is  now  occupied  only  by  his  steward. 
The  place  is  very  pretty  —  profusion  of  rhododendrons, 
as  underwood  in  the  groves,  on  the  grass,  beside  the 
rivers,  everywhere,  and  in  the  most  luxuriant  flower. 
Poor  Josephine !  Do  you  remember  Dr.  Marcet  telling 
us  that  when  he  breakfasted  with  her,  she  said,  pointing 
to  her  flowers,  "These  are  my  subjects;  I  try  to  make 
them  happy." 

The  grounds  are  admirably  well  taken  care  of,  but 
the  solitude  and  silence  and  the  continual  reference  to 
the  dead  were  strikingly  melancholy,  even  in  the  midst 
of  sunshine  and  flowers,  and  the  song  of  nightingales. 
In  one  pond  we  saw  swimming  in  graceful  desolate 
dignity  two  black  swans,  which,  as  rare  birds,  were 
once  great  favorites.  Now  they  curve  their  necks  of 
ebony  in  vain. 

The  grounds  are  altogether  very  small,  and  so  is  the 


306  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [Jtmu 

house,  but  fitted  up  with  exquisite  taste.  In  the  saloon 
is  the  most  elegant  white  marble  chimney-piece  my  eyes 
ever  did  or  ever  will  behold,  a  present  from  the  Pope 
to  Beauharnais.  The  finest  pictures  have  been  taken 
from  the  gallery;  the  most  striking  that  remains  is  one 
of  General  Dessain,  reading  a  letter,  with  a  calm  and 
absorbed  countenance  —  two  mamelukes  eagerly  exam- 
ining his  countenance.  In  the  finely  parqueted  floor 
great  holes  appear;  the  places  from  which  fine  statues 
of  Canova's  were,  as  the  steward  told  us,  dragged  up 
for  the  Emperor  of  Russia.  This  the  man  told  under 
his  breath,  speaking  of  his  master  and  of  the  armies 
without  distinctly  naming  any  person,  as  John  Langan 
used  to  talk  of  the  robbles  (rebels).  You  may  imagine 
the  feelings  which  made  us  walk  in  absolute  silence 
through  the  library,  which  was  formerly  Napoleon's; 
the  gilt  N".  's  and  J. 's  still  in  the  arches  of  the  ceiling, 
busts  and  portraits  all  round  —  that  of  Josephine  admir- 
able. 

At  St.  Germain,  that  vast  palace  which  has  been  of 
late  a  barrack  for  the  English  army,  our  female  guide 
was  exceedingly  well  informed;  indeed,  Francis  I., 
Henry  IV.,  Mary  de  Me'dicis,  Louis  XIV.,  and  Madame 
de  la  Valliere  seem  to  have  been  her  very  intimate 
acquaintances.  She  was  in  all  their  secrets;  showed  us 
Madame  de  la  Valliere' s  room,  poor  soul!  all  gilt  —  the 
gilding  of  her  woe.  This  gilding,  by  accident,  escaped 
the  revolutionary  destruction.  In  the  high,  gilt  dome 
of  this  room,  the  guide  showed  us  the  trap-door  through 
which  Louis  XIV.  used  to  come  down.  How  they 
managed  it  I  don't  well  know;  it  must  have  been  a 
perilous  operation,  the  room  is  so  high.  But  my  guide, 


1820]  TO  MRS.   EDGE  WORTH  307 

who  I  am  clear  saw  him  do  it,  assured  me  His  Majesty 
came  down  very  easily  in  his  armchair;  and  as  she  had 
great  keys  in  her  hand,  and  is  as  large  nearly  as  Mrs. 
Liddy,  I  did  not  hazard  a  contradiction  or  doubt. 

Did  you  know  that  it  was  Prony  who  built  the  Pont 
Louis  XVI.  1  Perronet  was  then  eighty-four,  and 
Prony  worked  under  him.  One  night,  when  he  had 
supped  at  Madame  de  Vinde"s,  he  went  to  look  at  his 
bridge,  when  he  saw  —  but  I  have  not  time  to  tell  you 
that  story. 

During  Buonaparte's  Spanish  War  he  employed  Prony 
to  make  logarithm,  astronomical,  and  nautical  tables  on 
a  magnificent  scale.  Prony  found  that  to  execute  what 
was  required  would  take  him  and  all  the  philosophers  of 
France  a  hundred  and  fifty  years.  He  was  very  un- 
happy, having  to  do  with  a  despot  who  would  have  his 
will  executed,  when  the  first  volume  of  Smith's  "Wealth 
of  Nations"  fell  into  his  hands.  He  opened  on  the 
division  of  labor,  our  favorite  pinmaking:  "Ha,  ha! 
voila  mon  affaire;  je  ferai  mes  calcules  comme  on  fait 
les  dpingles ! "  And  he  divided  the  labor  among  two 
hundred  men,  who  knew  no  more  than  the  simple  rules 
of  arithmetic,  whom  he  assembled  in  one  large  building, 
and  there  these  men-machines  worked  on,  and  the  tables 
are  now  complete. 

PARIS,  June  9. 

All  is  quiet  here  now,  but  while  we  were  in  the 
country  there  have  been  disturbances.  Be  assured  that, 
if  there  is  any  danger,  we  shall  decamp  for  Geneva. 


308  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JUNE 

June  22. 

We  have  spent  a  day  and  a  half  delightfully  with  M. 
and  Madame  Mold  at  Champlatreux,  their  beautiful 
country  place.  He  is  very  sensible,  and  she  very  obli- 
ging. Madame  de  Ventimille  there,  and  very  agreeable 
and  kind;  Madame  de  Nansouti  and  Madame  de  Bezan- 
court,  granddaughter  of  Madame  d'Houtitot:  all  remem- 
ber you  most  kindly. 

June  24. 

You  ask  for  Dupont  de  Fougeres  —  alas !  he  has  been 
dead  some  years.  I  went  to  see  Camille  Jordan,  who 
is  ill,  and  unable  to  leave  his  sofa;  but  he  is  fatter  and 
better-looking  than  when  we  knew  him  —  no  alteration 
but  for  the  better.  He  has  got  rid  of  all  that  might  be 
thought  a  little  affected  —  his  vivacity  elevated  into 
energy,  and  his  politeness  into  benevolence;  his  pretty 
little  good  wife  sitting  beside  him. 

Everybody,  of  every  degree  of  rank  or  talent,  who 
has  read  the  "Memoirs,"  speaks  of  them  in  the  most 
gratifying  and  delightful  manner.  Those  who  have 
fixed  on  individual  circumstances  have  always  fixed  on 
those  which  we  should  have  considered  as  most  curious. 
Mr.  Malthus  this  morning  spoke  most  highly  of  it,  and 
of  its  useful  tendency  both  in  a  public  and  private  light. 
Much  as  I  dreaded  hearing  it  spoken  of,  all  I  have  yet 
heard  has  been  what  best  compensates  for  all  the  anxiety 
I  have  felt. 

TO    MISSES    MARY    AND    CHARLOTTE    SNEYD. 

PARIS,  July  7, 1820. 

It  is  a  greater  refreshment  to  me,  my  dearest  Aunt 
Mary  and  Charlotte,  to  have  a  quiet  half-hour  in  which 


1820]  TO  MARY  AND  CHARLOTTE   SNEYD  309 

to  write  to  you,  while  Fanny  and  Harriet  are  practicing 
with  M.  Deschamp,  their  dancing-master,  in  the  next 
room. 

We  had  a  delightful  breakfast  at  Degerando's,  in  a 
room  hung  round  with  some  very  valuable  pictures;  one 
in  particular,  which  was  sent  to  Degerando  by  the  town 
of  Pescia,  as  a  proof  of  gratitude  for  his  conduct  at  the 
time  when  he  was  in  Italy  under  Buonaparte  —  sent  to 
him  after  he  was  no  longer  in  power.  There  was  an 
Italian  gentleman,  Marchese  Ridolfi,  of  large  fortune 
and  benevolent  mind,  intent  on  improving  his  people. 
We  also  met  Madame  de  Villette,  Voltaire's  belle  et 
bonne ;  she  has  still  some  remains  of  beauty,  and  great 
appearance  of  good-humor.  It  was  delightful  to  hear 
her  speak  of  Voltaire  with  the  enthusiasm  of  affection, 
and  with  tears  in  her  eyes  beseeching  us  not  to  believe 
the  hundred  misrepresentations  we  may  have  heard,  but 
to  trust  her,  the  person  who  had  lived  with  him  long, 
and  who  knew  him  best  and  last.  After  breakfast  she 
took  us  to  her  house,  where  Voltaire  had  lived,  and 
where  we  saw  his  chair  and  writing-desk  turning  on  a 
pivot  on  the  arm  of  the  chair;  his  statue  smiling,  keen- 
eyed,  and  emaciated,  said  to  be  a  perfect  resemblance; 
in  one  of  the  hands  hung  the  brown  and  withered  crown 
of  bays,  placed  on  his  head  when  he  appeared  the  last 
time  at  the  Thdatre  Franqais.  She  showed  us  some  of 
his  letters  —  one  to  his  steward,  about  sheep,  etc. ,  end- 
ing with,  "Let  there  be  no  drinking,  no  rioting,  no 
beating  of  your  wife."  The  most  precious  relic  in  this 
room  of  Voltaire's  is  a  little  piece  carved  in  wood  by  an 
untaught  genius,  and  sent  to  Voltaire  by  some  peasants, 
as  a  proof  of  gratitude.  It  represents  him  sitting,  lis- 


310  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JULY 

tening  to  a  family  of  poor  peasants,  who  are  pleading 
their  cause;  it  is  excellent. 

.  Two  of  the  Miss  Lawrences  are  at  Paris.  They  are 
very  sensible,  excellent  women.  They  brought  a  letter 
from  Miss  Carr,  begging  me  to  see  thtem;  and  I  hope 
I  have  had  some  little  opportunity  of  obliging  them, 
for  which  they  are  a  thousand  times  more  grateful  than 
I  deserve.  Indeed,  next  to  the  delight  of  seeing  my 
sisters  so  justly  appreciated  and  so  happy  at  Paris,  my 
greatest  pleasure  has  been  in  the  power  of  introducing 
people  to  each  other,  who  longed  to  meet,  but  could  not 
contrive  it  before.  We  took  Miss  Lawrence  to  one  of 
the  great  schools  here  established  on  the  Lancastrian 
principles,  and  we  also  took  her  to  hear  a  man  lecture 
upon  the  mode  of  teaching  arithmetic  and  geometry 
which  my  father  has  recommended  in  "  Practical  Educa- 
tion ; "  the  sight  of  the  little  cubes  was  at  once  gratify- 
ing and  painful. 

I  have  just  heard  from  Hunter  that  he  is  printing 
"Rosamond,"  and  that  my  friends  at  home  will  correct 
the  proofs  for  me  —  God  bless  them !  We  spent  a  very 
pleasant  day  at  dear  Madame  de  Eoquefeuille's,  at  Ver- 
sailles; and,  returning,  we  paid  a  latish  visit  to  the 
Princess  Potemkin.  What  a  contrast  the  tone  of  con- 
versation and  the  whole  of  the  society  from  that  at  Ver- 
sailles ! 

Certainly,  no  people  can  have  seen  more  of  the  world 
than  we  have  done  in  the  last  three  months.  By  seeing 
the  world  I  mean  seeing  varieties  of  characters  and  man- 
ners, and  being  behind  the  scenes  of  life  in  many  differ- 
ent societies  and  families.  The  constant  chorus  of  our 
moral  as  we  drive  home  together  at  night  is,  "How 


1820]  TO  MARY  AND   CHARLOTTE   SNEYD  311 

happy  we  are  to  be  so  fond  of  each  other!  How  happy 
we  are  to  be  independent  of  all  we  see  here!  How 
happy  that  we  have  our  dear  home  to  return  to  at  last ! " 

But  to  return  to  the  Princess  Potemkin:  she  is  Eus- 
sian,  but  she  has  all  the  grace,  softness,  and  winning 
manners  of  the  Polish  ladies,  and  an  oval  face,  pale, 
with  the  finest,  softest,  most  expressive  chestnut  dark 
eyes.  She  has  a  sort  of  politeness  which  pleases  pecu- 
liarly —  a  mixture  of  the  ease  of  high  rank  and  early 
habit  with  something  that  is  sentimental  without  affec- 
tation. Madame  Le  Bran  is  painting  her  picture; 
Madame  Le  Brun  is  sixty-six,  with  great  vivacity  as 
well  as  genius,  and  better  worth  seeing  than  her  pic- 
tures; for  though  they  are  speaking,  she  speaks,  and 
speaks  uncommonly  well. 

Madame  de  Noisville,  dame  d'honneur  to  the  Prin- 
cess Potemkin,  educated  her  and  her  sisters;  the  friend- 
ship of  the  pupil  and  the  preceptress  does  honor  to 
both.  Madame  de  Noisville  is  a  very  well-bred  woman, 
of  superior  understanding  and  decided  character,  very 
entertaining  and  agreeable.  She  told  us  that  Eostop- 
chin,  speaking  of  the  Eussians,  said  he  would  represent 
their  civilization  by  a  naked  man  looking  at  himself  in 
a  gilt-framed  mirror. 

The  Governor  of  Siberia  lived  at  Petersburg,  and 
never  went  near  his  government.  One  day  the  Em- 
peror, in  presence  of  this  governor  and  Eostopchin,  was 
boasting  of  his  far-sightedness.  "Commend  me,"  said 
Eostopchin,  "to  M.  le  Gouverneur,  who  sees  so  well 
from  Petersburg  to  Siberia."  Good-by. 

An  evening  which  Miss  Edgeworth  spent  at  Neuilly 


312  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JULY 

en  famille  impressed  her  with  the  unaffected  happiness 
of  the  Orldans  family.  The  Duke  showed  her  the  pic- 
ture of  himself  teaching  a  school  in  America;  Mademoi- 
selle d' Orleans  pointed  to  her  harp,  and  said  she  super- 
intended the  lessons  of  her  nieces;  both  she  and  her 
brother  acknowledging  how  admirably  Madame  de  Gen- 
lis  had  instructed  them.  The  Duchess  sat  at  a  round 
table  working,  and  in  the  course  of  the  evening  the  two 
eldest  little  boys  ran  in  from  an  Ecole  d'Enseignement 
mutuel  which  they  attended  in  the  neighborhood,  with 
their  school-books  in  their  hands,  and  some  prizes  they 
had  gained,  eager  to  display  them  to  their  mother.  A 
happy  simple  family  party. 

TO    MRS.    RUXTON. 

PARIS,  July,  1820. 

From  what  I  have  seen  of  the  Parisians,  I  am  con- 
vinced that  they  require,  if  not  a  despot,  at  least  an 
absolute  monarch  to  reign  over  them;  but,  leaving 
national  character  to  shift  for  itself,  I  will  go  on  with 
what  will  interest  you  more  —  our  own  history.  We 
have  been  much  pleased,  interested,  and  instructed  at 
Paris  by  all  that  we  have  seen  of  the  arts,  have  heard 
of  science,  and  have  enjoyed  of  society.  The  most 
beautiful  work  of  art  I  have  seen  at  Paris,  next  to  the 
facade  of  the  Louvre,  is  Canova's  "Magdalene."  The 
prettiest  things  I  have  seen  are  Madame  Jacotot's  minia- 
tures, enameled  on  porcelain  —  La  Valliere,  Madame  de 
Maintenon,  Moliere,  all  the  celebrated  people  of  that 
time;  and  next  to  these,  which  are  exquisite,  I  should 
name  a  porcelain  table,  with  medallions  all  round  of 
the  marshals  of  France,  by  Isabey,  surrounding  a  full- 


1820]  TO  MKS.   KUXTON  313 

length  of  Napoleon  in  the  centre.  This  table  is  gener- 
ally supposed  to  have  been  broken  to  pieces,  but  by  the 
favor  of  a  friend  we  saw  it  in  its  place  of  concealment. 

We  have  twice  dined  at  the  Duchesse  Douairiere 
d' Orleans' 1  little  court  at  Ivry,  and  we  shall  bring  Mr. 
William  Everard  there,  as  you  may  recollect  he  knew 
her  at  Port  Mahon.  She  has  a  benevolent  countenance, 
and  good-natured,  dignified  manners,  and  moves  with 
the  air  of  a  princess.  Her  striking  likeness  to  Louis 
XIV.  favors  this  impression.  One  of  her  dames 
d'honneur,  la  Marquise  de  Castoras,  a  Spaniard,  is  one 
of  the  most  interesting  persons  I  have  conversed  with. 

Yesterday  William  Everard  went  with  us  to  the 
Chapelle  Royale,  where  we  saw  Monsieur,  the  Duchesse 
d'Angouleme,  and  all  the  court.  In  the  evening  we 
were  at  a  fete  de  village  at  La  Celle,  to  which  Madame 
de  Vinde*  had  invited  us,  as  like  an  Irish  pattern  as 
possible,  allowing  for  the  difference  of  dress  and  man- 
ner. The  scene  was  in  a  beautiful  grove  on  each  side 
of  a  romantic  road  leading  through  a  valley.  High 
wooded  banks;  groups  of  gayly  dressed  village  belles 
and  beaux  seen  through  the  trees,  in  a  quarry,  in  the 
sand-holes,  everywhere  where  there  was  space  enough  to 
form  a  quadrille.  This  grove  was  planted  by  Gabrielle 
d'Etrdes,  for  whom  Henry  IV.  built  a  lodge  near  it. 
Fanny  and  Harriet  danced  with  two  gentlemen  who 
were  of  our  party,  and  they  all  danced  on  till  dewfall, 
when  the  lamps  —  little  glasses  full  of  oil  and  a  wick 
suspended  to  the  branches  of  the  trees  —  were  lighted, 

l  Louise  Marie  Adelaide  de  Bourbon  Conde",  widow  of  Louis  Philippe 
Joseph,  Due  d'Orldans,  daughter  of  the  Due  de  Penthievre.  Born 
March  13, 1783.  Died  June  23,  1821. 


314  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [JuLT 

and  we  returned  to  La  Celle,  where  we  ate  ice  and  sat 
in  a  circle,  playing  "trouvez  mon  ami"  —  mighty  like 
"why,  when,  and  where"  —  and  then  played  loto  till 
twelve.  Rose  at  six,  had  coffee,  and  drove  back  to 
Paris  in  the  cool  of  the  delicious  morning.  To-day  we 
are  going  to  dine  again  at  Neuilly  with  the  other  Duchess 
of  Orle'ans,  daughter-in-law  of  the  good  old  Duchess, 
who  by  the  bye  spoke  of  Madame  de  Genlis  in  a  true 
Christian  spirit  of  forgiveness,  but  in  a  whisper,  and 
with  a  shake  of  her  head,  allowed,  "qu'elle  m'avait 
cause'e  bien  des  chagrins." 

Among  some  of  the  most  agreeable  people  we  have 
met  are  some  Russians  and  Poles.  Madame  Swetchine, 
a  Russian,  is  one  of  the  cleverest  women  I  ever  heard 
converse.  At  a  dinner  at  the  young  and  pretty  Prin- 
cess Potemkin's,  on  entering  the  dining-room  we  saw 
only  a  round  table  covered  with  fruit  and  sweetmeats, 
as  if  we  had  come  in  at  the  dessert;  and  so  it  remained 
while,  first,  soup,  then  cutlets,  then  fish,  one  dish  at  a 
time,  ten  or  twelve  one  after  another,  were  handed 
round,  ending  with  game,  sweet  things,  and  ice. 

A  few  days  ago  I  saw,  at  the  Duchesse  d'Escar's, 
Prince  Rostopchin,  the  man  who  burned  Moscow,  first 
setting  fire  to  his  own  house.  I  never  saw  a  more 
striking  Calmuck  countenance.  From  his  conversation 
as  well  as  from  his  actions,  I  should  think  him  a  man 
of  great  strength  of  character.  This  soiree  at  Madame 
d'Escar's  was  not  on  a  public  night,  when  she  receives 
for  the  King,  but  one  of  those  petits  comites,  as  they 
call  their  private  parties,  which  I  am  told  the  English 
seldom  see.  The  conversation  turned,  of  course,  first 
on  the  Queen  of  England,  then  on  Lady  Hester  Stan- 


1820]  TO  MISS  KUXTON  315 

hope,  then  on  English  dandies.  It  was  excessively 
entertaining  to  hear  half  a  dozen  Parisians  all  speaking 
at  once,  giving  their  opinions  of  the  English  dandies 
who  have  appeared  at  Paris,  describing  their  manners 
and  imitating  their  gestures,  and  sometimes  by  a  single 
gesture  giving  an  idea  of  the  whole  man;  then  discuss- 
ing the  difference  between  the  petit  marquis  of  the  old 
French  comedy  and  the  present  dandy.  After  many 
attempts  at  definition,  and  calling  in  Madame  d'Arblay's 
Meadows,  with  whom  they  are  perfectly  acquainted, 
they  came  to  "d'ailleurs  c'est  inconcevable  c.a."  And 
Madame  d'Escar,  herself  the  cleverest  person  in  the 
room,  summed  it  up:  "L'essentiel  c'est  que  notre 
dandy  il  veut  plaire  aux  femmes  s'il  le  peut;  mais  votre 
dandy  Anglais  ne  le  voudrait,  meme  s'il  le  pourrait!" 

Pray  tell  Mrs.  General  Dillon  I  thank  her  for  making 
us  acquainted  with  the  amiable  family  of  the  Creeds, 
who  have  been  exceedingly  kind,  and  who,  I  hope,  like 
us  as  much  as  we  like  them.  The  Princess  de  Craon, 
too,  I  like  in  another  way,  and  Mademoiselle  d'Alpy; 
they  have  introduced  us  to  the  Mortemars  —  Madame 
de  SeVigne"s  "Esprit  de  Mortemar." 

TO    MISS    KUXTON. 

PASSY,  July  19. 

Most  comfortably,  most  happily  seated  at  a  little  table 
in  dear  Madame  Gautier's  cabinet,  with  a  view  of  soft 
acacias  seen  through  half-open  Venetian  blinds,  with  a 
cool  breeze  waving  the  trees  of  this  hanging  garden,  and 
the  song  of  birds  and  the  cheerful  voices  of  little  Caro- 
line Delessert  and  her  brother  playing  with  bricks  in 
the  next  room  to  me,  I  write  to  you,  my  beloved  friend. 


316  MAEIA  EDGE  WORTH  [JULY 

I  must  give  you  a  history  of  one  of  our  last  days  at 
Paris  — 

Here  entered  Madame  Gautier  with  a  sweet  rose  and 
a  sprig  of  verbena  and  mignonette  —  so  like  one  of  the 
nosegays  I  have  so  often  received  from  dear  Aunt  Rux- 
ton,  and  bringing  gales  of  Black  Castle  to  my  heart. 
But  to  go  on  with  my  last  days  at  Paris. 

Friday,  July  14.  — Dancing-master  nine  to  ten;  and 
while  Fanny  and  Harriet  were  dancing,  I  paid  bills, 
saw  tradespeople,  and  cleared  away  some  of  that  neces- 
sary business  of  life  which  must  be  done  behind  the 
scenes.  Breakfasted  at  Camille  Jordan's;  it  was  half- 
past  twelve  before  the  company  assembled,  and  we  had 
an  hour's  delightful  conversation  with  Camille  Jordan 
and  his  wife  in  her  spotless  white  muslin  and  little  cap, 
sitting  at  her  husband's  feet  as  he  lay  on  the  sofa,  as 
clean,  as  nice,  as  fresh,  and  as  thoughtless  of  herself  as 
my  mother.  At  this  breakfast  we  saw  three  of  the 
most  distinguished  of  that  party  who  call  themselves 
"  Les  Doctrinaires  "  —  and  say  they  are  more  attached 
to  measures  than  to  men.  Camille  Jordan  himself  has 
just  been  deprived  of  his  place  of  Conseiller  d'etat  and 
one  thousand  five  hundred  francs  per  annum,  because 
he  opposed  government  in  the  law  of  elections.  These 
three  Doctrinaires  were  Casimir  Perrier,  Royer  Collard, 
and  Benjamin  Constant,  who  is,  I  believe,  of  a  more 
violent  party.  I  do  not  like  him  at  all;  his  counte- 
nance, voice,  manner,  and  conversation  are  all  disagree- 
able to  me.  He  is  a  fair,  whithky-looking  man,  very 
near-sighted,  with  spectacles  which  seem  to  pinch  his 
nose.  He  pokes  out  his  chin  to  keep  the  spectacles  on, 
and  yet  looks  over  the  top  of  his  spectacles,  squinching 


1820]  TO  MISS   RUXTON  317 

up  his  eyes  so  that  you  cannot  see  your  way  into  his 
mind.  Then  he  speaks  through  his  nose,  and  with  a 
lisp,  strangely  contrasting  with  the  vehemence  of  his 
emphasis.  He  does  not  give  me  any  confidence  in  the 
sincerity  of  his  patriotism,  nor  any  high  idea  of  his 
talents,  though  he  seems  to  have  a  mighty  high  idea  of 
them  himself.  He  has  been  well  called  Le  hero  des 
Brochures.  We  sat  beside  one  another,  and  I  think 
felt  a  mutual  antipathy.  On  the  other  side  of  me  was 
Koyer  Collard,  suffering  with  toothache  and  swelled 
face;  but,  notwithstanding  the  distortion  of  the  swell- 
ing, the  natural  expression  of  his  countenance,  and  the 
strength  and  sincerity  of  his  soul  made  their  way,  and 
the  frankness  of  his  character  and  plain  superiority  of 
his  talents  were  manifest  in  five  minutes'  conversation. 

Excellent  Degerando  1  gave  me  an  account  of  all  he 
had  done  in  one  district  in  Spain,  where  he  succeeded  in 
employing  the  poor  and  inspiring  them  with  a  desire  to 
receive  the  wages  of  industry,  instead  of  alms  from  hos- 
pitals, etc.  At  Rome  he  employed  the  poor  in  clearing 
away  many  feet  of  earth  withinside  the  Colosseum,  and 
discovered  beneath  a  beautiful  pavement ;  but  when  the 
Pope  returned  the  superstition  of  the  people  took  a 
sudden  turn,  and  conceiving  that  this  earth  had  been 
consecrated,  and  ought  not  to  have  been  removed,  they 
set  to  work  and  filled  in  all  the  rubbish  again  over  the 
pavement ! 

After  this  breakfast  we  went  to  the  Duchesse  d'Uze's 
—  little,  shriveled,  thin,  high-born,  high-bred  old  lady, 
who  knew  and  admired  the  Abbe"  Edgeworth,  and  re- 

*  A  friend  whom  the  Edgeworths  had  constantly  met  in  Madame  de 
Pastoret's  salon  in  1802. 


318  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [Jui/e 

ceived  us  with  distinction  as  his  relations.  Her  great- 
grandfather was  the  Due  de  Chatillon,  and  she  is  great- 
granddaughter,  or  something  that  way,  of  Madame  de 
Montespan,  and  her  husband  grand-nephew  straight  to 
Madame  de  la  Valliere  :  their  superb  hotel  is  filled  with 
pictures  of  all  sizes,  from  miniatures  by  Petitot  to  full 
lengths  by  Mignard,  of  illustrious  and  interesting  family 
pictures  —  in  particular,  Mignard's  "  La  Valliere  en  Made- 
leine ; "  we  returned  to  it  again  and  again,  as  though  we 
could  never  see  it  enough :  a  full-length  of  Madame  de 
Montespan,  prettier  than  I  wished.  After  a  view  of 
these  pictures  and  of  the  garden,  in  which  there  was  a 
catalpa  in  splendid  flower,  we  departed. 

This  day  we  dined  with  Lord  Carrington  and  his 
daughter,  Lady  Stanhope  : 1  the  Count  de  Noe',  beside 
whom  I  sat,  was  an  agreeable  talker.  In  the  evening  we 
received  a  note  from  Madame  Lavoisier  —  Madame  de 
Rumford,  I  mean  —  telling  us  that  she  had  just  arrived 
at  Paris,  and  warmly  begging  to  see  us.  Rejoiced  was  I 
that  my  sisters  should  have  this  glimpse  of  her,  and  off 
we  drove  to  her  ;  but  I  must  own  that  we  were  disap- 
pointed in  this  visit,  for  there  was  a  sort  of  chuffiness, 
and  a  sawdust  kind  of  unconnected  cutshortness  in  her 
manner,  which  we  could  not  like.  She  was  almost  in 
the  dark,  with  one  ballooned  lamp  and  semicircle  of  black 
men  round  her  sofa,  on  which  she  sat  cushioned  up,  giv- 
ing the  word  for  conversation  —  and  a  very  odd  course 
she  gave  to  it  —  on  some  wife's  separation  from  her  hus- 
band ;  and  she  took  the  wife's  part,  and  went  on  for  a 
long  time  in  a  shrill  voice,  proving  that,  where  a  hus- 
band and  wife  detested  each  other,  they  should  separate, 
1  Catherine  Lucy,  wife  of  the  fourth  Earl  Stanhope. 


1820]  TO  MISS  RUXTON  319 

and  asserting  that  it  must  always  be  the  man's  fault 
when  it  comes  to  this  pass  !  She  ordered  another  lamp, 
that  the  gentlemen  might,  as  she  said,  see  my  sisters' 
pretty  faces ;  and  the  light  came  in  time  to  see  the 
smiles  of  the  gentlemen  at  her  matrimonial  maxims. 
Several  of  the  gentlemen  were  unknown  to  me.  Old 
Gallois  sat  next  to  her,  dried,  and  in  good  preservation, 
tell  my  mother;  M.  Gamier  ("Richesses  des  Nations") 
and  Cuvier,  with  whom  I  had  a  comfortable  dose  of  good 
conversation.  Just  as  we  left  the  room  Humboldt  and 
the  Prince  de  Beauveau  arrived,  but  we  were  engaged  to 
Madame  Re'camier. 

15th.  —  We  breakfasted  with  Madame  de  1' Aigle,  sister 
to  the  Due  de  Broglie.  (Now  Madame  Gautier  is  put- 
ting on  her  bonnet,  to  take  us  to  La  Bagatelle.)  I  for- 
got to  tell  you  that  Prince  Potemkin  is  nephew  to  the 
famous  Potemkin.  He  has  just  returned  from  England, 
particularly  pleased  with  Mr.  Coke,  of  Norfolk,  and 
struck  by  the  noble  and  useful  manner  in  which  he 
spends  his  large  fortune.  This  young  Russian  appears 
very  desirous  to  apply  all  he  has  seen  in  foreign  coun- 
tries to  the  advantage  of  his  own. 

After  our  breakfast  at  Madame  de  1'Aigle's,  we  went 
home,  and  met  Prince  Edmond  de  Beauveau  by  appoint- 
ment, and  went  with  him  to  the  Invalides ;  saw  the 
library,  and  plans  and  models  of  fortifications,  for  which 
the  Due  de  Coigny,  unasked,  sent  us  tickets,  and  there 
we  met  his  secretary,  a  warm  Buonapartist,  whom  we 
honored  for  his  gratitude  and  attachment  to  his  old 
master. 

Dined  at  Passy  and  met  Mrs.  Malthus,  M.  Gamier, 
and  M.  Chaptal  —  the  great  Chaptal — very  interesting 


320  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [JULY 

man.  In  the  evening  at  the  Princesse  de  Beauveau's 
and  Lady  Granard's. 

Sunday  with  the  Miss  Byrnes  to  Notre  Dame,  and 
went  with  them  to  introduce  them  to  Lady  (Sydney) 
Smith ;  charming  house,  gardens,  and  pictures.  To 
Madame  de  Rumford's,  and  she  was  very  agreeable  this 
morning.  Dined  at  Mr.  Creed's  under  the  trees  in  their 
garden,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Malthus,  and  Mrs.  and  Miss 
Eyre,  fresh  from  Italy  —  very  agreeable. 

Now  we  have  returned  from  a  very  pleasant  visit  to 
La  Bagatelle.  What  struck  me  most  there  was  the  bust 
of  the  Due  d'Angouleme,  with  an  inscription  from  his 
own  letter  during  the  Cent  Jours,  when  he  was  detained 
by  the  enemy  :  J'espere  — j'exige  meme  que  le  Roi  ne 
fera  point  de  sacrifice  pour  me  ravoir  ;  je  crains  ni  la 
prison  ni  la  mort. 

Yesterday  we  went  to  Sevres  —  beautiful  manufacture 
of  china,  especially  a  table,  with  views  of  all  the  royal 
palaces,  and  a  vase  six  feet  and  a  half  high,  painted  with 
natural  flowers. 

Louis  XV.  was  told  that  there  was  a  man  who  had 
never  been  out  of  Paris ;  he  gave  him  a  pension,  provided 
he  never  went  out  of  town ;  he  quitted  Paris  the  year 
after  !  I  have  not  time  to  make  either  prefaces  or  moral. 
We  breakfast  at  Mr.  Chenevix's  on  Monday,  and  propose 
to  be  at  Geneva  on  Saturday. 

TO    MISS    LUCY   EDGEWOKTH. 

PASSY,  July  23, 1820. 

I  hope  this  will  find  you  under  the  tree  in  my  garden, 
with  Sophy  Ruxton  near  you,  and  my  mother  and  Sophy 
and  Pakenham,  who  will  run  and  call  my  aunts,  for 


1820]  TO  MISS  LUCY  EDGEWORTH  321 

whom  Honora  will  set  chairs ;  and  Lovell  will,  I  hope, 
be  at  home  too ;  so  I  picture  you  to  myself  all  happily 
assembled,  and  you  have  had  a  good  night,  and  all  is 
right,  and  Honora  has  placed  my  Aunt  Mary  with  her 
back  to  the  light  —  AND  Maria  is  very  like  Mr.  Fitzher- 
bert,  who  always  tells  his  friends  at  home  what  they  are 
doing,  instead  of  what  he  is  doing,  which  is  what  they 
want  to  know. 

Yesterday  we  dined  —  for  the  last  time,  alas!  this 
season  —  with  excellent  Benjamin  Delessert.  The  red 
book  which  you  will  receive  with  this  letter  was  among 
the  many  other  pretty  books  lying  on  the  table  before 
dinner,  and  I  was  so  much  delighted  with  it,  and  wished 
so  much  that  Pakenham  was  looking  at  it  with  me,  that 
dear  Fra^ois  Delessert  procured  a  copy  of  "  Les  Ani- 
maux  savants  "  for  me  the  next  morning.  We  never  saw 
Les  Cerfs  at  Trivoli,  but  we  saw  a  woman  walk  down  a 
rope  in  the  midst  of  the  fireworks,  and  I  could  not  help 
shutting  my  eyes.  As  I  was  looking  at  the  picture  of 
the  stag  rope-dancer  in  this  book,  and  talking  of  the 
wonderful  intelligence  and  feeling  of  animals,  an  old  lady 
who  was  beside  me  told  me  that  some  Spanish  horses 
she  had  seen  were  uncommonly  proud-spirited,  resenting 
always  an  insult  more  than  an  injury.  One  of  these, 
who  had  been  used  to  be  much  caressed  by  his  master, 
saw  him  in  a  field  one  day  talking  to  a  friend,  and  came 
up,  according  to  his  custom,  to  be  caressed.  The  horse 
put  his  head  in  between  the  master  and  his  friend,  to 
whom  he  was  talking ;  the  master,  eager  in  conversation, 
gave  him  a  box  on  the  ear ;  the  horse  withdrew  his  head 
instantly,  took  it  for  an  affront,  and  never  more  would 
permit  his  master  to  caress  or  mount  him  again. 


322  MAKIA  EDGEWORTH  [JULY 

The  little  dessert  directed  for  Pakenham 1  was  picked 
out  for  him  from  a  dish  of  bonbons  at  the  last  dessert  at 
Benjamin's.  It  is  impossible  to  tell  you  all  the  little 
exquisite  instances  of  kindness  and  attention  we  have 
received  from  this  excellent  family.  The  respect,  affec- 
tion, and  admiration  with  which,  apropos  to  everything 
great  and  small,  they  remember  my  father  and  mother, 
is  most  touching  and  gratifying. 

Yesterday  morning  we  had  been  talking  of  Mrs. 
Hofland's  "  Son  of  a  Genius,"  which  is  very  well  trans- 
lated under  the  name  of  "  Ludovico."  I  told  Madame 
Gautier  the  history  of  Mrs.  Holland,  and  then  went  to 
look  for  the  lines  which  she  wrote  on  my  father's  birth- 
day. Madame  Gautier  followed  me  into  this  cabinet  to 
read  them.  I  then  showed  to  her  Sophy's  lines,  which  I 
love  so  much. 

Sophy !  I  see  your  color  rising ;  but  trust  to  me !  I 
will  never  do  you  any  harm. 

Madame  Gautier  was  exceedingly  touched  with  them. 
She  pointed  to  the  line, 

"  Those  days  are  past  which  never  can  return," 

and  said  in  English,  "  This  is  the  day  on  which  we  all 
used  to  celebrate  my  dear  mother's  birthday,  but  I  never 
keep  days  now,  except  that,  according  to  our  Swiss  cus- 
tom, we  carry  flowers  early  in  the  morning  to  the  grave. 
She  and  my  father  are  buried  in  this  garden,  in  a  place 
you  have  not  seen;  I  have  been  there  at  six  o'clock 
this  morning.  You  will  not  wonder,  then,  my  dear 
friend,  at  my  being  touched  by  your  sister  Sophy's 
verses.  I  wish  to  know  her ;  I  am  sure  I  shall  love 
1  Her  youngest  brother. 


1820]  TO  MISS  LUCY   EDGEWORTH  323 

her.  Is  she  most  like  Fanny  or  Harriet  ?  "  This  led 
to  a  conversation  on  the  difference  between  our  different 
sisters  and  brothers ;  and  Madame  Gautier,  in  a  most 
eloquent  manner,  described  the  character  of  each  of  her 
brothers,  ending  with  speaking  of  Benjamin.  "Men 
have  often  two  kinds  of  consideration  in  society ;  one 
derived  from  their  public  conduct,  the  other  enjoyed  in 
their  private  capacity.  My  brother  Benjamin  has  equal 
influence  in  both.  We  all  look  up  to  him ;  we  all  apply 
to  him  as  to  our  guardian  friend.  Besides  the  advantage 
of  having  such  a  friend,  it  gives  us  a  pleasure  which  no 
money  can  purchase  —  the  pleasure  of  feeling  the  mind 
elevated  by  looking  up  to  a  character  we  perfectly  esteem, 
and  that  repose  which  results  from  perfect  confidence." 

I  find  always,  when  I  come  to  the  end  of  my  paper, 
that  I  have  not  told  you  several  entertaining  things  I 
had  treasured  up  for  you.  I  had  a  history  of  a  man  and 
woman  from  Cochin  China,  which  must  now  be  squeezed 
almost  to  death.  Just  before  the  Trench  Revolution  a 
French  military  man  went  out  to  India,  was  wrecked, 
and  with  two  or  three  companions  made  his  way,  Lord 
knows  how,  to  Cochin  China.  It  happened  that  the 
King  of  Cochin  China  was  at  war,  and  was  glad  of  some 
hints  from  the  French  officer,  who  was  encouraged  to 
settle  in  Cochin  China,  married  a  Cochin  Chinese  lady, 
rose  to  power  and  credit,  became  a  mandarin  of  the  first 
class,  and  within  the  last  month  has  arrived  in  France 
with  his  daughter.  When  his  relations  offered  to  embrace 
her,  she  drew  back  with  horror.  She  is  completely 
Chinese,  and  her  idea  of  happiness  is  to  sit  still  and  do 
nothing,  not  even  to  blow  her  nose.  I  hope  she  will 
not  half  change  her  views  and  opinions  while  she  is  in 


324  MARIA  EDGEWOKTH  [Ace. 

France,  or  she  would  become  wholly  unhappy  on  her 
return  to  China.  Her  father  is  on  his  word  of  honor 
to  return  in  two  years. 

I  send  by  Lord  Carrington  a  cutting  of  cactus,  for  my 
mother,  from  this  garden :  it  is  carefully  packed,  and 
will,  I  think,  grow  in  the  greenhouse. 

TO   MBS.   BUXTO1T. 

AT  MB.  MOILLIET'S,  PBEGXT,  GEXEVA, 
August  5, 1820. 

Whenever  I  feel  any  strong  emotion,  especially  of 
pleasure,  you,  friend  of  my  youth  and  age,  —  you,  dear 
resemblance  of  my  father,  —  are  always  present  to  my 
mind;  and  I  always  wish  and  want  immediately  to 
communicate  to  you  my  feelings. 

I  did  not  conceive  it  possible  that  I  should  feel  so 
much  pleasure  from  the  beauties  of  nature  as  I  have  done 
since  I  came  to  this  country.  The  first  moment  when  I 
saw  Mont  Blanc  will  remain  an  era  in  my  life  —  a  new 
idea,  a  new  feeling,  standing  alone  in  the  mind. 

We  are  most  comfortably  settled  here :  Dtunont, 
Pictet,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marcet,  and  various  others,  dined 
and  spent  two  most  agreeable  evenings  here;  and  the 
fourth  day  after  our  arrival  we  set  out  on  our  expedition 
to  Chamonni  with  M.  Pictet,  as  kind,  as  active,  and 
as  warm-hearted  as  ever.  Mrs.  Moilliet  was  prevented, 
by  the  indisposition  of  Susan,  from  accompanying  us; 
but  Mr.  Moilliet  and  Emily  came  with  us  at  five  o'clock 
in  the  morning  in  Mr.  Moilliet's  landau;  raining  des- 
perately —  great  doubts  —  but  on  we  went :  rain  ceased 
—  the  sun  came  out,  the  landau  was  opened,  and  all 
was  delightful. 


1320]  TO  MRS.   RUXTON  325 

My  first  impression  of  the  country  was  that  it  was 
like  Wales ;  but  snow-capped  Mont  Blanc,  visible 
everywhere  from  different  points  of  view,  distinguished 
the  landscape  from  all  I  had  ever  seen  before.  Then 
the  sides  of  the  mountains,  quite  different  from  Wales 
indeed  —  cultivated  with  garden  care,  green  vineyards, 
patches  of  ble  de  Turquie,  hemp,  and  potatoes,  all 
without  inclosure  of  any  kind,  mixed  with  trees  and 
shrubs :  then  the  garden-cultivation  abruptly  ceasing 
—  bare  white  rocks  and  fir  above,  fir  measuring  straight 
to  the  eye  the  prodigious  height.  Between  the  foot 
of  the  mountain  and  the  road  a  border-plain  of  verdure, 
about  the  breadth  of  the  lawn  at  Black  Castle  between 
the  trellis  and  Suzy  Clarke's,  rich  with  chestnut  and 
walnut  trees,  and  scarlet  barberries  painting  the  green. 

The  inns  on  the  Chamouni  roads  are  much  better 
than  those  on  the  road  from  Paris ;  we  grew  quite  fond 
of  the  honest  family  of  the  hotel  at  Chamouni.  Pictet 
knows  all  the  people,  and  wherever  we  stopped  they 
all  flocked  round  him  with  such  cordial  gratitude  in 
their  faces,  from  the  little  children  to  the  gray-headed 
men  and  women ;  all  seemed  to  love  "  Monsieur  le 
Professeur."  The  guides,  especially  Pierre  Balmat  and 
his  son,  are  some  of  the  best-informed  and  most  agree- 
able men  I  ever  conversed  with.  Indeed  for  six  months 
of  the  year  they  keep  company  with  the  most  distin- 
guished travelers  of  Europe.  With  these  guides,  each 
of  us  armed  with  a  long  pole  with  an  iron  spike,  such 
as  my  uncle  described  to  me  ages  ago,  and  which  I  never 
expected  to  wield,  we  came  down  La  Flegere,  which  we 
mounted  on  mules.  In  talking  to  an  old  woman  who 
brought  us  strawberries,  I  was  surprised  to  hear  her 


326  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [Aim. 

pronounce  the  Italian  proverb,  "Poco  a  poco  fa  lontano 
nel  giorno."  I  thought  she  must  have  been  beyond 
the  Alps  —  no,  she  had  never  been  out  of  her  own 
mountains.  The  patois  of  these  people  is  very  agree- 
able—  a  mixture  of  the  Italian  fond  diminutives  and 
accents  on  the  last  syllable,  —  Septembre',  Octobre. 

Our  evening  walk  was  to  the  arch  of  ice  at  the  source 
of  the  Arveiron,  and  we  went  in  the  dusk  to  see  a  manu- 
factory of  cloth,  made  by  a  single  individual  peasant  — 
the  machinery  for  spinning,  carding,  weaving,  and  all 
made,  woodwork  and  ironwork,  by  his  own  hands.  He 
had  in  his  youth  worked  in  some  manufactory  in  Dau- 
phiny.  The  workmanship  was  astonishing,  and  the 
modesty  and  philosophy  of  the  man  still  more  aston- 
ishing. When  I  said,  "  I  hope  all  this  succeeds  in 
making  money  for  you  and  your  family,"  he  answered, 
"  Money  was  not  my  object ;  I  make  just  enough  for 
myself  and  my  family  to  live  by,  and  that  is  all  I  want ; 
I  made  it  for  employment  for  ourselves  in  the  long 
winter  evenings.  And  if  it  lasts  after  me,  it  may  be  of 
service  to  some  of  them ;  but  I  do  not  much  look  to 
that.  It  often  happens  that  sons  are  of  a  different  way 
of  thinking  from  their  fathers ;  mine  may  think  little  of 
these  things,  and  if  so,  no  harm." 

The  table-d'hote  at  Chamouni  —  thirty  people  —  was 
very  entertaining.  We  had  a  most  agreeable  addition  to 
our  party  in  M.  and  Madame  Arago ;  he  was  very  civil 
to  us  at  Paris,  and  very  glad  to  meet  us  again.  As  we 
were  walking  to  a  cascade,  he  told  me  most  romantic 
adventures  of  his  in  Spain  and  Algiers,  which  I  will  tell 
you  hereafter :  but  I  must  tell  you  now  a  curious 
anecdote  of  Buonaparte.  When  he  had  abdicated  after 


1820]  TO  MBS.   RUXTON  327 

the  battle  of  Waterloo,  he  sent  for  Arago,  and  offered 
him  a  considerable  sum  of  money  if  he  would  accompany 
him  to  America.  He  had  formed  the  project  of  estab- 
lishing himself  in  America,  and  of  carrying  there  in  his 
train  several  men  of  science  !  Madame  Bertrand  was  the 
person  who  persuaded  'him  to  go  to  England.  Arago 
was  so  disgusted  at  his  deserting  his  troops,  he  would 
have  nothing  more  to  do  with  him. 

We  returned  by  the  beautiful  valley  of  Sallenches  and 
St.  Gervais  to  Geneva.  I  forgot  to  mention  about  a 
dozen  cascades,  one  more  beautiful  than  the  other,  and  I 
thought  of  Ondine,  which  you  hate,  and  "  mon  Oncle 
Friedelhausen."  We  had  left  our  carriage  at  St.  Mar- 
tin, and  traveled  in  char-a-bancs,  with  which  you  and 
Sophy  made  me  long  ago  acquainted  —  cousin-german  to 
an  Irish  jaunting-car.  We  were  well  drenched  by  the 
rain  ;  and  as  we  had  imprudently  lined  our  great  straw 
hats  with  green,  we  arrived  at  St.  Gervais  with  chins  and 
shoulders  dyed  green.  The  hotel  at  St.  Gervais  is  the 
most  singular-looking  house  I  ever  saw.  You  drive 
through  a  valley,  between  high  pine-covered  mountains 
that  seem  remote  from  human  habitation  —  when  sud- 
denly in  a  scoop-out  in  the  valley  you  see  a  large,  low, 
strange  wooden  building  round  three  sides  of  a  square, 
half  Chinese,  half  American-looking,  with  galleries  and 
domes  and  sheds  —  the  whole  unpainted  wood.  Under 
the  projecting  roof  of  the  gallery  stood  a  lady  in  a 
purple  silk  dress,  plaiting  straw,  and  various  other 
figures  in  shawls,  and  caps,  and  flowered  bonnets,  some 
looking  very  fine,  others  deadly  sick  —  all  curious  to  see 
the  new-comers.  M.  Goutar,  the  master,  reminded  me  of 
Samuel  Essington  : l  full  of  gratitude  to  M.  Pictet,  who 
1  An  old  servant. 


328  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [Auo. 

had  discovered  these  baths  for  him,  he  whisked  about 
with  his  round,  perspiring  face,  eager  to  say  a  hundred 
things  at  once,  with  a  tongue  too  large  for  his  mouth, 
and  a  goitre  which  impeded  his  utterance,  and  showed  us 
his  douches  and  contrivances,  and  spits  turned  by  water 

—  very  ingenious.     Dinner  in  a  long,  low,  narrow  room 

—  about  fifty  people  ;  and  after  dinner  we  were  ushered 
into  a  room  with  calico  curtains,  very  smart  —  a  select 
party  let  in.     Many  unexpected  compliments  on  "  Pa- 
tronage "  from  a  Dijon  Marquise,  who  was  at  the  baths  to 
get  rid  of  a  redness  in  her  nose.     Enter  a  sick  but  very 
gentlewoman-like  Prussian  Countess,  "Patronage"  again: 
Walter  Scott's  novels,  as  well  known  as  in    England, 
admirably  criticised.     She  promised  me  a  letter  to  Ma- 
dame de  Montolieu. 

At  Chamouni  there  is  a  little  museum  of  stones  and 
crystals,  etc.,  where  MM.  Moilliet  and  Pictet  contrived 
to  treat  their  geological  souls  to  seven  napoleons'  worth 
of  specimens.  An  English  lady  was  buying  some  bau- 
bles, when  her  husband  entered:  "God  bless  my  soul 
and  body,  another  napoleon  gone  !  " 

At  the  inn  at  Bonne  ville  —  shackamarack  gilt  dirt, 
Irish-French.  Pictet  bought  a  sparrow  some  boys  in  the 
street  threw  up  at  the  window,  and  said  he  would  bring 
it  home  for  his  little  grandson.  It  was  ornamented  with 
a  topping  made  of  scarlet  cloth.  He  put  it  in  his  hat, 
and  tied  a  handkerchief  over  it ;  and  hatless  in  the  burn- 
ing sun  he  brought  it  to  Geneva. 

August  6. 

The  day  after  our  return  we  dined  at  Mrs.  Marcet's 
with  M.  Dumont,  M.  and  Madame  Prevost,  M.  de  la 
Hive,  M.  Bonstettin,  and  M.  de  Candolle,  the  botanist, 


1820]  TO  MRS.   EDGEWORTH  329 

a  particularly  agreeable  man.  He  told  us  of  many  ex- 
periments on  the  cure  of  goitres.  In  proportion  as  the 
land  has  been  cultivated  in  some  districts  the  goitres 
have  disappeared.  M.  Bonstettin  told  us  of  some  cre- 
tins, the  lowest  in  the  scale  of  human  intellect,  who 
used  to  assemble  before  a  barber's  shop  and  laugh  im- 
moderately at  their  own  imitations  of  all  those  who 
came  to  the  shop,  ridiculing  them  in  a  language  of  their 
own. 

TO    MKS.    EDGEWORTH. 

PREGNY,  August  10,  1820. 

I  wrote  to  my  Aunt  Ruxton  a  long  —  much  too  long 
an  account  of  our  Chamouni  excursion,  since  which  we 
have  dined  at  Pictet's  with  his  daughters,  Madame  Pre- 
vost  Pictet  and  Madame  Vernet,  agreeable,  sensible,  and 
the  remains  of  great  beauty ;  but  the  grandest  of  all  his 
married  daughters  is  Madame  Enard.  M.  Enard  is 
building  a  magnificent  house,  the  admiration,  envy,  and 
scandal  of  Geneva ;  we  have  called  it  the  Palais  de  la 
Re'publique. 

Dumont,  tell  Honora,  is  very  kind  and  cordial;  he 
seems  to  enjoy  universal  consideration  here,  and  he  loves 
Mont  Blanc  next  to  Bentham,  above  all  created  things ; 
I  had  no  idea  till  I  saw  him  here  how  much  he  enjoyed 
the  beauties  of  nature.  He  gave  us  a  charming  anecdote 
of  Madame  de  Stae'l  when  she  was  very  young.  One 
day  M.  Suard,  as  he  entered  the  saloon  of  the  Hotel 
Necker,  saw  Madame  Necker  going  out  of  the  room,  and 
Mademoiselle  Necker  standing  in  a  melancholy  attitude 
with  tears  in  her  eyes.  Guessing  that  Madame  Necker 
had  been  lecturing  her,  Suard  went  towards  her  to  com- 


330  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Auo. 

fort  her,  and  whispered,  "Une  caresse  du  papa  vous 
dedommagera  bieu  de  tout  9a."  She  immediately,  wip- 
ing the  tears  from  her  eyes,  answered,  "  Eh!  oui, 
Monsieur,  mon  pere  songe  a  mon  bonheur  present, 
maman  songe  a  mon  avenir."  There  was  more  than 
presence  of  mind,  there  was  heart  and  soul  and  greatness 
of  mind,  in  this  answer. 

Dumont  speaks  to  me  in  the  kindest,  most  tender, 
and  affectionate  manner  of  our  "  Memoirs ;  "  he  says  he 
hears  from  England,  and  from  all  who  have  read  them, 
that  they  have  produced  the  effect  we  wished  and 
hoped ;  the  MS.  had  interested  him,  he  said,  so  deeply, 
that  with  all  his  efforts,  he  could  not  then  put  himself 
in  the  place  of  the  indifferent  public. 

M.  Vernet,  Pictet's  son-in-law,  mentioned  a  compli- 
ment of  a  Protestant  curd  at  Geneva  to  the  new  Catholic 
Bishop  which  French  politeness  might  envy,  and  which 
I  wish  that  party  spirit  in  Ireland  and  all  over  the  world 
could  imitate.  "  Monseigneur,  vous  etes  dans  un  pays 
oil  la  moitie'  du  peuple  vous  ouvre  leurs  cceurs,  et  1'autre 
moitie'  vous  tendent  les  bras." 

We  have  taken  a  pretty  and  comfortable  caleche  for 
our  three  weeks'  tour  with  the  Moilliets.  But  I  must 
tell  you  of  our  visit  to  M.  and  Madame  de  Candolle ; 
we  went  there  to  see  some  volumes  of  drawings  of  flow- 
ers which  had  been  made  for  him.  I  will  begin  from 
the  beginning :  Joseph  Buonaparte,  who  has  been  repre- 
sented by  some  as  a  mere  drunkard,  did,  nevertheless, 
some  good  things ;  he  encouraged  a  Spaniard  of  botanical 
skill  to  go  over  to  Mexico  and  make  a  Mexican  flora ; 
he  employed  Mexican  artists,  and  expended  considerable 
sums  of  money  upon  it ;  the  work  was  completed,  but 


1820]  TO   MKS.   EDGE  WORTH  331 

the  engraving  had  not  been  commenced  when  the  revolu- 
tion drove  Joseph  from  his  throne.  The  Spaniard  with- 
drew from  Spain,  bringing  with  him  his  botanical  treas- 
ure, and  took  refuge  at  Marseilles,  where  he  met  De 
Candolle,  who,  on  looking  over  his  Mexican  flora,  said 
it  was  admirably  well  done  for  Mexicans,  who  had  no 
access  to  European  books,  and  he  pointed  out  its  defi- 
ciencies ;  they  worked  at  it  for  eighteen  months,  when 
De  Candolle  was  to  return  to  Geneva,  and  the  Spaniard 
said  to  him,  "  Take  the  book  —  as  far  as  I  am  concerned, 
I  give  it  to  you,  but  if  my  government  should  reclaim 
it,  you  will  let  me  have  it."  De  Candolle  took  it,  and 
returned  to  Geneva,  where  he  became  not  only  famous, 
but  beloved  by  all  the  inhabitants.  This  summer  he 
gave  a  course  of  lectures  on  botany,  which  has  been  the 
theme  of  universal  admiration.  Just  as  the  lectures 
finished,  a  letter  came  from  the  Spaniard,  saying  he  had 
been  unexpectedly  recalled  to  Spain,  that  the  King  had 
offered  to  him  the  professorship  he  formerly  held,  that 
he  could  not  appear  before  the  King  without  his  book ; 
and  that,  however  unwilling,  he  must  request  him  to 
return  it  in  eight  days.  One  of  De  Candolle' s  young 
lady-pupils  was  present  when  he  received  the  letter,  and 
expressed  his  regret  at  losing  the  drawings :  she  ex- 
claimed, "  We  will  copy  them  for  you."  De  Candolle 
said  it  was  impossible  — 1500  drawings  in  eight  days ! 
He  had 'some  duplicates,  however,  and  some  which  were 
not  peculiar  to  Mexico  he  threw  aside ;  this  reduced  the 
number  to  a  thousand,  which  were  distributed  among  the 
volunteer  artists.  The  talents  and  the  industry  shown, 
he  says,  were  astonishing ;  all  joined  in  this  benevolent 
undertaking  without  vanity  and  without  rivalship ;  those 


332  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Auo. 

who  could  not  paint,  drew  the  outlines  ;  those  who  could 
not  draw,  traced ;  those  who  could  not  trace  made  them- 
selves useful  by  carrying  the  drawings  backwards  and 
forwards.  One  was  by  an  old  lady  of  eighty.  We 
saw  thirteen  folio  volumes  of  these  drawings  done  in 
the  eight  days !  Of  course  some  were  much  worse  than 
others,  but  even  this  I  liked :  it  showed  that  individuals 
were  ready  to  sacrifice  their  own  amour  propre  in  a  be- 
nevolent undertaking. 

De  Candolle  went  himself  with  the  original  Flora  to 
the  frontier ;  he  •  was  to  send  it  by  Lyons.  Now  the 
custom-house  officers  between  the  territory  of  Geneva 
and  France  are  some  of  the  most  strict  and  troublesome 
in  the  universe,  and  when  they  saw  the  book  they  said, 
"  You  must  pay  1500  francs  for  this."  But  when  the 
chief  of  the  Douane  heard  the  story,  he  caught  the  enthu- 
siasm, and  with  something  like  a  tear  in  the  corner  of 
his  eye,  exclaimed,  "We  must  let  this  book  pass.  I 
hazard  my  place ;  but  let  it  pass." 

TO    MISS    LUCY    EDGEWORTH. 

PREGNY,  August  13, 1820. 

Ask  to  see  "  Lettres  Physiques  et  Morales  sur  1'His- 
toire  de  la  Terre  et  de  1'Homme,  adressdes  a  la  Beine 
d'Angleterre.  Par  M.  de  Luc.  1778." 

Ask  your  mother  to  send  a  messenger  forthwith  to 
Pakenham  Hall  to  borrow  this  book ;  and  if  the  gossoon 
does  not  bring  it  from  Pakenham  Hall,  next  morning  at 
flight  of  night  send  off  another  or  the  same  to  Castle 
Forbes,  and  to  Mr.  Cobbe,  who,  if  he  has  not  the  book, 
ought  to  be  hanged,  and  if  he  has,  drawn  and  quartered 
if  he  does  not  send  it  to  you.  But  if,  nevertheless,  he 


1820]  TO   MISS  LUCY   EDGEWORTH  333 

should  not  send  it,  do  not  rest  satisfied  under  three  fruit- 
less attempts ;  let  another  —  not  the  same  boy,  as  I  pre- 
sume his  feet  are  weary  —  gossoon  be  off  at  the  flight  of 
night  for  Baronstown,  and  in  case  of  a  fourth  failure 
there,  neither  to  stint  nor  stay  till  he  reaches  Sonna, 
where  I  hope  he  will  at  last  find  it.  Now  if,  after  all, 
it  should  not  amuse  you,  I  shall  be  much  mistaken,  that 's 
all.  Skip  over  the  tiresome  parts,  of  which  there  are 
many,  and  you  will  find  an  account  of  the  journey  we 
are  going  to  make,  and  of  many  of  the  feelings  we  have 
had  in  seeing  glaciers,  seas  of  ice  and  mountains. 

I  believe  I  mentioned  in  some  former  letter  that  we 
had  become  acquainted  with  M.  Arago,  who,  in  his 
height  and  size,  reminded  us  of  our  own  dear  Dr.  Brink- 
ley,  but  I  am  sure  I  did  not  tell  what  I  kept  for  you, 
my  dear  Lucy,  that  you  might  have  the  pleasure  of  tell- 
ing it  to  your  mother  and  all  the  friends  around  you. 

When  M.  Arago  was  with  us  in  our  excursion  to 
Chamouni,  he  was  speaking  of  the  voyage  of  Captain 
Scoresby  to  the  Arctic  regions,  which  he  had  with  him 
and  was  reading  with  great  delight.  As  I  found  he  was 
fond  of  voyages  and  travels,  and  from  what  he  said  of 
this  book  perceived  that  he  was  an  excellent  judge  of 
their  merits,  I  asked  if  he  had  ever  happened  to  meet 
with  a  book  called  "  Karamania,"  by  a  Captain  Beaufort. 
He  knew  nothing  of  our  connection  with  him,  and  I 
spoke  with  a  perfect  indifference  from  which  he  could 
not  guess  that  I  felt  any  interest  about  the  book  or  the 
person,  but  the  sort  of  lighting  up  of  pleasure  which  you 
have  seen  in  Dr.  Brinkley's  face  when  he  hears  of  a 
thing  he  much  approves,  immediately  appeared  in  Mon- 
sieur Arago's  face,  and  he  said  "  Karamauia  "  was,  of  all 


334  MAEIA  EDGEWORTH  [Auo. 

the  books  of  travel  he  had  seen,  that  which  he  admired 
the  most :  that  he  had  admired  it  for  its  clearness,  its 
truth,  its  perfect  freedom  from  ostentation.  He  said  it 
contained  more  knowledge  in  fewer  words  than  any  book 
of  travels  he  knew,  and  must  remain  a  book  of  reference 
—  a  standard  book.  Then  he  mentioned  several  passages 
that  he  recollected  having  liked,  which  proved  the  im- 
pression they  had  made ;  the  Greek  fire,  the  amphithea- 
tre at  Side",  etc.  He  knew  the  book  as  well  as  we  do, 
and  alluded  to  the  parts  we  all  liked  with  great  rapidity 
and  delight  in  perceiving  our  sympathy.  He  pointed 
out  the  places  where  an  ordinary  writer  would  have 
given  pages  of  amplification.  He  was  particularly  pleased 
with  the  manner  in  which  the  affair  of  the  sixty  Turks 
is  told,  and  said,  "  That  marked  the  character  of  the  man 
and  does  honor  to  his  country." 

I  then  told  him  that  Captain  Beaufort  was  uncle  to 
the  two  young  ladies  with  me ! 

He  told  me  he  had  read  an  article  in  the  "  Journal  des 
Savants"  in  which  "Karamania"  is  mentioned  and  parts 
translated.  I  have  recommended  it  to  many  at  Paris 
who  wanted  English  books  to  translate,  but  I  am  sorry 
to  say  that  little  is  read  there  besides  politics  and  novels. 
Science  has,  however,  a  better  chance  than  literature. 

Whenever  any  one  in  your  Book  Society  wants  to 
bespeak  a  book,  perhaps  you  could  order  "  Eecueil  des 
Eloges,"  par  M.  Cuvier.  They  contain  the  Lives,  not 
merely  the  Eloges,  of  all  the  men  of  science  since  1780, 
beautifully  written,  and  with  an  excellent  introduction. 
The  lives  of  Priestley  and  Cavendish  are  written  with 
so  much  candor  towards  the  English  philosophers  that 
even  Mr.  Chenevix  cannot  have  anything  to  complain  of. 


1820]  TO  MISS   HONOKA  EDGEWOETH  335 

TO    MISS    HONORA   EDGEWOBTH. 

BERNE,  August  19,  1820. 

The  day  we  set  out  from  Pregny  we  breakfasted  at 
Coppet ;  from  some  misunderstanding  M.  de  Stae'l  had 
not  expected  us  and  had  breakfasted,  but  as  he  is  re- 
markably well-bred,  easy,  and  obliging  in  his  manners 
he  was  not  put  out,  and  while  our  breakfast  was  pre- 
paring he  showed  us  the  house.  All  the  rooms  once 
inhabited  by  Madame  de  Stae'l  we  could  not  think  of  as 
common  rooms  —  they  have  a  classical  power  over  the 
mind,  and  this  was  much  heightened  by  the  strong 
attachment  and  respect  for  her  memory  shown  in  every 
word  and  look,  and  silence  by  her  son  and  by  her  friend, 
Miss  Randall.  He  is  correcting  for  the  press  the  "Dix 
Annies  d'Exil."  M.  de  Stae'l  after  breakfast  took  us  a 
delightful  walk  through  the  grounds,  which  he  is  im- 
proving with  good  taste  and  judgment.  He  told  me 
that  his  mother  never  gave  any  work  to  the  public  in  the 
form  in  which  she  originally  composed  it ;  she  changed 
the  arrangement  and  expression  of  her  thoughts  with 
such  facility,  and  was  so  little  attached  to  her  own  first 
views  of  the  subject,  that  often  a  work  was  completely 
remodeled  by  her  while  passing  through  the  press. 
Her  father  disliked  to  see  her  make  any  formal  prepa- 
ration for  writing  when  she  was  young,  so  that  she  used 
to  write  often  on  the  corner  of  the  chimney-piece,  or  on 
a  pasteboard  held  in  her  hand,  and  always  in  the  room 
with  others,  for  her  father  could  not  bear  her  to  be  out 
of  the  room  —  and  this  habit  of  writing  without  prepa- 
ration she  preserved  ever  afterwards. 

M.  de  Stae'l  told  me  of  a  curious  interview  he  had 


336  MARIA  EDGE  WORTH  [AUG. 

with  Buonaparte  when  he  was  enraged  with  his  mother, 
who  had  published  remarks  on  his  government  —  con- 
cluding with  "  Eh,  bien !  vous  avez  raison  aussi.  Je 
congois  qu'un  fils  doit  toujours  faire  la  defense  de  sa 
mere,  rnais  enfin,  si  Monsieur  veut  dcrire  des  libelles,  il 
faut  aller  en  Angleterre.  Ou  bien  s'il  cherche  la  gloire 
c'est  en  Angleterre  qu'il  faut  aller.  C'est  Angleterre, 
ou  la  France  —  il  n'y  a  que  ces  deux  pays  en  Europe  — 
dans  le  monde." 

Before  any  one  else  at  Paris,  Miss  Randall  told  me, 
had  the  MS.  of  "  S.  Helene,"  a  copy  had  been  sent  to 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  who  lent  it  to  Madame  de 
Stae'l ;  she  began  to  read  it  eagerly,  and  when  she  had 
read  about  half,  she  stopped  and  exclaimed,  "  Where  is 
Benjamin  Constant  ?  we  will  wait  for  him."  When  he 
came  she  began  to  give  him  an  account  of  what  they  had 
been  reading ;  he  listened  with  the  indifference  of  a 
person  who  had  already  seen  the  book,  and  when  she 
urged  him  to  read  up  to  them,  he  said  he  would  go  on 
where  they  were.  When  it  was  criticised,  he  defended 
it,  or  writhed  under  it  as  if  the  attack  was  personal. 
When  accused  of  being  the  author,  he  denied  it  with 
vehemence,  and  Miss  Randall  said  to  him,  "  If  you  had 
simply  denied  it  I  might  have  believed  you,  but  when 
you  come  to  swearing,  I  am  sure  that  you  are  the 
author." 

M.  de  Stae'l  called  his  little  brother  Alphonse  Rocca, 
to  introduce  him  to  us  ;  he  is  a  pleasing,  gentle-looking, 
ivory-pale  boy  with  dark-blue  eyes,  not  the  least  like 
Madame  de  Stae'l.  M.  de  Stae'l  speaks  English  perfectly, 
and  with  the  air  of  an  Englishman  of  fashion.  After 
our  walk  he  proposed  our  going  on  the  lake  —  and  we 


1820]  TO  MISS   HONORA   EDGEWORTH  337 

rowed  for  about  an  hour.  The  deep,  deep  blue  of  the 
water,  and  the  varying  colors  as  the  sun  shone  and  the 
shadows  of  the  clouds  appeared  on  it  were  beautiful. 
When  we  returned  and  went  to  rest  in  M.  de  Stael's 
cabinet,  Dumont,  who  had  quoted  from  Voltaire's  "  Ode 
on  the  Lake  of  Geneva,"  read  it  to  us.  Bead  it  and  tell 
me  where  you  think  it  ought  to  begin. 

We  slept  at  Merges  on  Tuesday,  and  arrived  late  and 
tired  at  Yverdun.  Next  morning  we  went  to  see  Pesta- 
lozzi's  establishment ;  he  recognized  me  and  I  him  ;  he 
is,  tell  my  mother,  the  same  wild-looking  man  he  was, 
with  the  addition  of  seventeen  years.  The  whole  super- 
intendence of  the  school  is  now  in  the  hands  of  his 
masters ;  he  just  shows  a  visitor  into  the  room,  and  re- 
appears as  you  are  going  away  with  a  look  that  pleads 
irresistibly  for  an  obole  of  praise. 

While  we  were  in  the  school,  and  while  I  was  stretch- 
ing my  poor  little  comprehension  to  the  utmost  to  follow 
the  master  of  mathematics,  I  saw  enter  a  benevolent- 
looking  man  with  an  open  forehead  and  a  clear,  kind 
eye.  He  was  obviously  an  Englishman,  and  from  his 
manner  of  standing  I  thought  he  was  a  captain  in  the 
navy.  My  attention  was  called  away,  and  I  was  intent 
upon  an  account  of  a  school  for  deaf  and  dumb,  which  I 
was  interested  in,  on  account  of  William  Beaufort,  when 
a  lady  desired  to  be  introduced  to  me  ;  she  said  she  had 
been  talking  to  Mrs.  Moilliet,  taking  her  for  Miss  Edge- 
worth  —  she  was  "  the  wife  of  Captain  Hillyar,  Captain 
Beaufort's  friend."  What  a  revolution  in  all  our  ideas  ! 
We  almost  ran  to  Captain  Hillyar,  my  benevolent-look- 
ing Englishman,  and  most  cordially  did  he  receive  us, 
and  insisted  upon  our  all  coming  to  dine  with  him. 


338  MARIA  EDGEWORTH  [Auo. 

When  I  presented  Fanny  and  Harriet  to  him  as  Captain 
Beaufort's  nieces,  he  did  look  so  pleased,  and  all  the  way 
home  he  was  praising  Captain  Beaufort  with  such  de- 
light to  himself.  "  But  I  never  write  to  the  fellow, 
faith  !  I  '11  tell  you  the  truth :  I  can't  bring  myself 
to  sit  doAvn  and  write  to  him,  he  is  such  a  superior 
being ;  I  can't  do  it ;  what  can  I  have  to  say  worth 
his  reading  ?  Why,  look  at  his  letters,  one  page  of  them 
contains  more  sense  than  I  could  write  in  a  volume." 

At  dinner,  turning  to  Fanny  and  Harriet,  he  drank 
"  Uncle  Francis's  health  ;  "  and  when  we  took  leave  he 
shook  us  by  the  hand  at  the  carriage  door.  "  You 
know  we  sailors  can  never  take  leave  without  a  hearty 
shake  of  the  hand.  It  comes  from  the  heart,  and  I 
hope  will  go  to  it." 

From  Yverdun  our  evening  drive  by  the  lake  of  Neuf- 
chatel  was  beautiful,  and  mounting  gradually  we  came 
late  at  night  to  Paienne,  and  next  day  to  Fribourg, 
at  the  dirtiest  of  inns,  as  if  kept  by  chance,  and  such  a 
mixture  of  smells  of  onions,  grease,  dirt,  and  dunghill ! 
But,  never  mind  !  I  would  bear  all  that,  and  more, 
to  see  and  hear  Pere  Ge'rard.  But  this  I  keep  for 
Lovell,  as  I  shall  tell  him  all  about  Pestalozzi,  Fel- 
lencurg,  and  Pere  Gdrard's  schools.  You  shall  not  even 
know  who  Pere  Ge'rard  is. 

So  we  go  on  to  Berne.  The  moment  we  entered  this 
canton  we  perceived  the  superior  cultivation  of  the  land, 
the  comfort  of  the  cottagers,  and  their  fresh-colored, 
honest,  jolly,  independent,  hard-working  appearance. 
Trees  of  superb  growth,  beech  and  fir,  beautifully 
mixed,  on  the  sides  of  the  mountains.  On  the  road 
here  we  had  the  finest  lightning  I  ever  saw  flashing 


1820]  TO  MISS   HONORA  EDGEWORTH  339 

from  the  horizon.  Berne  is  chiefly  built  of  a  whitish 
stone,  like  Bath  stone,  and  flagged  walks  arched  over, 
like  Chester.  A  clear  rivulet  runs  through  the  middle 
of  each  street;  delightful  public  walks.  On  Sunday 
we  saw  the  peasants  in  their  holiday  costume,  very 
pretty,  etc. 

I  have  kept  to  the  last  that  M.  de  Stae'l  and  Miss 
Randall  spoke  in  the  most  gratifying  terms  of  praise 
of  my  father's  Life. 


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